The Stories I Could Tell
by alwayssomethingelse
Summary: For every story Gill Murray can tell about Julie Dodson, Julie has one about Gill. And while old stories are told, new ones are made. (x-posted with my AO3 account, by the by)
1. Chapter 1

"_Doesn't have to be male!"_

_"That is totally unacceptable! Julie Dodson! The stories I could tell about you!_"

* * *

**October 2014, Gill's Retirement**

It's a good night, Julie decides, as she downs her fifth shot - Mary having challenged her, and she's never one to refuse a challenge; especially when it involves alcohol.

"What are these called again?" she asks.

"Red-headed sluts. Thought it was appropriate."

Julie gives a sharp glance at the other woman, but seeing how Mary struggled to get the last word out clearly, decides to let it slip. After five each, Julie can still speak coherently, so she reckons she's a good way to winning this one.

Rule one: Never challenge Julie Dodson to shots.

She's dead right in that assumption. Mary slides off the bar stool, muttering something about the ladies, and Julie eyes her empty glasses meditatively, then casts around the room. It is still crammed, but it doesn't take long for her to spot Gill, arms in the air, gyrating to the music along with Chris, Lee and a somewhat resigned looking Mitch. Julie moves through the crowd with ease and slides a hand around her friend's slender waist, bends her mouth to Gill's ear and positively purrs:

"So just what stories were you intending to tell, Slap?" A moment too late, she curses herself for not giving Gill more warning, but clearly she knows the feel of Julie's body, as she doesn't jump or jerk away from the unexpected touch; rather, not missing a beat,

"Any one of a thousand, you mad cow!" The smaller woman turns in to face her, sloppily laying a wrist on her shoulder. "How about that New Year's do when we'd just finished training? Or your thirtieth? Or my hen night? Not to mention the time you danced on that table over there, in this very pub! Then there was that time you..."

"Alright, alright!" Julie laughs and cuts her off midflow. "I'm sorry I asked."

"But not sorry you cast aspersions on my good character! In front of my team as well. Totally unacceptable, madam!"

"Your good character my arse! As I recall, you were right there with me on that table..."

"Only because you fed me glass after glass of whiskey and then hauled me up on it..." Gill is giggling like a schoolgirl at the memory.

"...and at least I have never danced topless singing 'I am 16...'"

"Keep your voice down!" Gill hisses. "That was a once off, and you two promised to not say anything!" She struggles to speak now, laughing so hard. "You're never going to let me forget it, are you?"

"Nope. And they're not your team anymore, for that matter! No more reputation to maintain, Gill." It is lightly said, but brings a pause to the laughter.

With a swift change, Gill's voice is quieter. "No, I suppose not." A flicker of...what, sadness? No, more pensive than that - but the expression is gone from her face before Julie can define it, and Gill is looking every bit the (retired) Chief Inspector again. "But I'm damned if you're going to tarnish their memory of me this quickly!" Gill adds, before returning to her giggles.

"No love, you can do that all by yourself, quite capably. On that note, s'my round, come on." and she pulls the still-chuckling Gill - with no resistance - towards the bar.

* * *

By three am, the room has cleared considerably. Rachel has just left with Will Pemberton; Mitch is making his excuses - Pete and Lee are long gone. Chris, instantly noticeable in his flowery shirt, and a couple of lads are propping up the bar, and the rest of the team are getting into a cab, steering a severely unsteady Mary in with them. Janet and Gill are collapsed in a corner, in companionable silence, when Julie arrives over with 'one for the road'.

"Thanks Ma...Julie." Janet eyes the scotch with uncertainty, but seems to decide that she has drunk enough already that one more cannot hurt.

"Ta, Slap." Stirring from her reverie, Gill attempts to sit up, and grins at her benefactor.

"How're you getting home, Janet?" Julie, ever practical.

"Chris and the others and I have a taxi booked for, crap, five minutes time." She turns to her friend. "What about you, Gill? Do you want to come with us?"

"Aww, look at this, I'm not even your boss anymore and you're still looking out for me. No, ta, I'll get a lift home with this mad bint." She nods lazily towards Julie.

"You will, will you?" Mock resignation and a twinkling eye. "How d'you know I don't have plans?"

"Reckon you'll just have to cancel, if you do." Gill looks smug. "It's my night out, my party, and I get to call the shots for once."

"As if there's ever a time when you don't call the shots!" She turns to Janet. "It's fine. I'll see she gets home safe, with no new performances to add to her record."

"Oi!"

"Well, we do have to keep your reputation intact, don't we?" She's chuckling, and Janet is trying her hardest to look mature and responsible, and Gill gives in.

"Next time it'll be Bohemian Rhapsody!"

"Jesus Christ!" splutters Janet. "You don't do anything easy, do you, Gill? We don't want you being arrested for disturbing the peace!"

They're still laughing when Chris calls over that the taxi is there. Drunk Gill is overly affectionate, hugging everyone and swearing that she'll be checking up on them, thanking them for the party. Finally, Janet has to disentangle herself from her third hug, because the driver has appeared on the threshold, looking impatient.

"See you soon Gill, Ma'am."

They follow Janet and the lads out and wave the taxi off.

"Come on, Slap, let's get back inside. Our cab'll be another ten minutes." Julie turns to usher Gill out of the cold, and is stopped in her tracks by the expression she sees on the other woman's face.

"Kiss me."

Julie's eyes open as wide as they can go.

"You're drunk. Come on, back inside." She lays a hand on Gill's elbow, but meets resistance when she moves towards the door.

"Kiss me."

Gill's hand slides onto Julie's waist; her eyes are a little glazed but they focus on Julie's lips with a hunger that speaks volumes.

She could kiss her. It would be so easy; to sweep her off her feet, like the romantic resolution of some old movie from years ago - lips against lips, fierce heat meeting as tongues move together.

She could kiss her. It would be the simplest thing in the world to let go of the passion she has held so deeply she even forgets she has it, sometimes. She could sweep her thumbs over those beautiful cheekbones, smooth the flyaway hair back behind her ears, move her hands down over Gill's shoulders to her waist, holding her tight in a warm embrace.

She could kiss her. But then the dam would burst and whether she could stop... Now that was the real question.

"Kiss me."

Gill is insistent, eyes clearing. There is no drunken petulance, such as Julie has heard before at times like this. There have been many occasions when Gill's flirtation has provided evidence for Julie's earlier comment on the necessity of men.

She could kiss her. But it would be taking advantage. And Julie promised herself, years ago, that she would not take advantage of Gill's drunken advances anymore, no matter the fact that it was like coming cold turkey off heroin to live up to that promise.

She kisses Gill, chastely, on the forehead. Softly. Gently. Smells her conditioner, mingled with her scent. Feels the pressure of the other woman's hand come to bear on her shoulder, as she bows her head under Julie's chin and rests upon her collarbone. Somehow her own arms are loosely encircling the thin body in front of her, and for just a moment, she lays her cheek on Gill's head. She's not sure, but she thinks she hears a muttered 'love you' spoken into her constricted chest.

"Come on, you mad cow, you'll catch your death. And if you don't, I will. Inside." This time, Gill allows herself to be led, and seated at the table nearest the door, while Julie makes a show of getting their coats.

She gives Gill's address to the taxi, when it arrives. It's a black cab, and she pulls the window partition shut. For a while, they silently watch the city lights move past in a blur, before Gill speaks, clearly, quietly.

"I meant it, you know."

"Meant what?" Julie's mind has been drifting.

"What I said. I still mean it."

Julie meets her eyes, and sees again that pensive, longing expression, clearer now. "Gill..." She sighs. There is no way she can explain this, and certainly not while they're both pissed. "I can't. I just...can't." Her voice aches as she says it, and if she can hear that, Gill definitely can. She tries to lighten the tone. "Anyway, what about your reputation?"

"Bugger my reputation. Anyway, I'm out now. In more ways than one." She starts to giggle. "It's your own fault, you know."

"It was just a laugh!" Julie begins to protest, but Gill holds a hand up to stop her.

"Just a laugh that was based on years and years, good God woman, how many years have we known each other? Thirty-five?"

"Thirty-seven," corrects Julie, but Gill has moved on.

"The night of Sammy's engagement, I got utterly wankered."

"I remember."

"Bollocks! You weren't there."

"I only turned up after Janet and Rachel had come back downstairs. I did stick my head round the door, but you were zonked. Didn't stay long." She is lying, of course, but will never tell Gill that she moved her unconscious form into the recovery position in the bed, replaced the gin bottle with a pint of water, and then sat and kept vigil until well after the party ended; only leaving as the dawn broke. Instead, she says, by way of explanation, "Dave."

"Oh. Well. Anyway. Before I got to that stage, I thought of all the things I hadn't done. And I thought, 'Gill Murray, what are you waiting for?' So I decided about my retirement. And I decided that I was going to do all the things I've put off, because of work, and my bloody reputation. And you..."

"Yes?"

"Well, you feature pretty high on that list."

"That's a nice way of seducing someone. Where'd they teach you that, Canal Street?" She's laughing now, she can't help it. Gill does not look impressed.

"You know bloody well what I mean. And anyway, why d'you say 'can't'? Last I checked, you're completely out, completely single, and it's not like..."

"Like what?"

"It's not like we don't work well together." She looks triumphant, as if this has settled the matter.

"Yes, but Slap..." Julie leans forward, elbows on knees, head in hands, every muscle as tight as during a major investigation.

"I'm calling the shots tonight, remember?"

"That's just the problem. Tonight. You're hammered. I've had more than is good for me. And tomorrow, I've got to go back to work, and you've got...your garden, or your knitting or whatever..." Gill aims a sharp dig with a foot divested of its high heel. "And that's it. That's the problem. I can't. We did that before, remember? And I'm not going through that again." Gill starts to laugh, and Julie has the urge to hit her. "What's so bloody funny?"

"You think I'm talking about a one night only, or being fuck buddies again, don't you?"

"Well actually, I think you're drunk and hadn't even got that far, but yes, I suppose that was what I thought you had in mind. Though I'm beginning to wonder if you're in your right mind at all."

"Daft bitch. I gave up so much for this life, and, y'know, when it was nearly… Well, I made up my mind. What I mean is, you and me, we... We work well together. Not work, I mean work... You know, as a team, as a pair...as us. God, would you listen to me, twittering like a bloody teenager! I'm not talking about friends with benefits, Julie bloody Dodson. I'm saying I think we should...well, at least try."

It is only now that the penny drops for Julie.

"Oh...!" She relaxes back into her seat, muscles unclenching.

"So if you say you bloody well can't, one more damn time, I'm going to have to..."

"What?" She smirks over at Gill. "Arrest me? Can't do that anymore, Slap."

Gill laughs sardonically. "No more I can, but I'm sure I could think of something."

"Well don't worry, you don't need to. If you're certain, that is."

"Of course I'm bloody fucking well certain, you mad cow!"

Two minutes later, Julie has to ask the taxi driver to pull over, and Gill is violently sick at the side of the road. Julie rubs her back and hands her a tissue when she's done, reassuring the less-than-amused driver that Gill will now be fine for the last five minutes up to the house. She hopes to God she's right.

It is by no means the first time that Julie has assisted Gill out of a taxi, practically carried her up to the front door, let them in with the spare key that she keeps on her own keyring, and deposited Gill on the sofa. But it feels different this time. She knows her way round the sitting room and into the kitchen, even in the half light with only one lamp on, and within a minute has the kettle on and mugs ready. Somehow, she has sobered up quite considerably. Timing is a strange thing, she thinks.

Thirty-seven years ago, almost to the week, she first met Gill during their training at Bruche. And now, here they are, after Gill's retirement. Funny how things work out.


	2. Chapter 2

**September, 1977, Bruche**

It is the end of the first Friday of week one at Bruche. The tutor has just called time on their class, and Julie Dodson sighs deeply and turns to her fellow probationer from Rochdale Division; would-be lothario and utterly charming, he has accepted that she has no interest in him (or indeed, any men) after weeks of pestering, since they met at the first information evening for new recruits. Accordingly, they are now boozer buddies, though she's not quite sure how that happened. The two strongest personalities from their intake, perhaps. The two best Pool players, quite definitely.

"Oi, Murray! Pub?"

"You're on, I'm parched. Shall we open it up to this lot?" And without waiting for her response, he shouts out: "Pub in fifteen minutes, if anyone's interested! Let's see how the Queen's Head treats us when we're off duty." There is a general mutter of assent from the room as a whole.

oOo

An hour later, when Julie is ensconced in a booth that gives a good view of the room, she sees the slight, almost fragile-looking lass from South Manchester Division come in. She may be petite, and carefully made up, but her poise as she saunters over to a group of probationers from the same Division and demands a glass of wine almost takes Julie's breath away.

"What'cha looking at?" Dave Murray is well into his third pint by this time, and Julie has already learnt that he doesn't hold it half as well as he thinks he does. She leans into her friend and points out the figure of her attention.

"She's a bit of alright."

"Mmm." He scrutinises the bar, where it would appear that, tiny though she be, the woman has the rapt attention of everyone around her. She appears to be expounding on something the tutor said, and how she thinks otherwise.

"Dare you." Julie's eyes are twinkling as she says it, knowing he won't refuse. For the last eight weeks, when they've been out together, those words signify that the challenged one is to make themselves known to the woman in question in whatever way they see fit. It has worked quite well, although more productively for Dave, who has the luxury of being a straight man. "Go on then."

He makes a fuss of standing up, and saunters over to the bar, towards the group that has gathered around the woman. Julie makes a study of her pint, but never loses focus, so when Dave slaps the lass round the arse, she sees the reaction in full. First, she stiffens, and appears to grow three inches in height. Her shoulders positively bristle. Then - and Julie sees it as if in slow motion - she turns to Dave, easily ten inches taller than her, takes one look at his attempt at roguish charm, and opens her mouth.

Well. Julie would have no need to lip read, as the entire room could hear the dressing down that Dave Murray received that evening. It was better than telly, seeing him being brought down to size by a pint-sized WPC, who was adamant that no jack-the-lad fast-track wanker was going to so much as touch her without her say so, and heaven forbid he - or indeed any man in the room - ever do that again, because so help her God, she would see that he was never fit for cuffing a villain ever again.

The sight of a stunned Dave stammering apologies and attempting to blame it on his 'friend over there' - luckily there were a number of blokes at the booth with her - was well worth the price of the consolation pint Julie bought him afterwards. She could see the next fourteen weeks being a lot of fun, with those two in classes together.

"By the by, what's that firebrand's name? I didn't gather?"

"Gill," he muses, eyes gleaming at the prospect of a challenge. "Gill Prescott."

oOo

Friday nights become a regular session at the Queen's Head, and by the third week, Gill and Julie have been partnered together a couple of times in class, and found each to the other's liking. There are only five women, all told, in their intake - a percentage they are assured is "quite high", and the other three, they discover, seem a lot more interested in community relations and the 'gentle' side of policing.

"Fuck that!" says Gill, none too sweetly. "I'm going to be a DCI some day, taking on the big cases, the ones that make the news."

"Yeah, yeah, you and me both, lass. I bet you I make Super before you do, at any rate."

"Oh, sod off! You'll be calling me Ma'am one of these days."

"Only in your fantasy life, you daft cow."

June and the other two girls look a bit horrified at this exchange, and as they're all changing to head down the pub, busy themselves with their lockers. Julie, as the quickest changer, is already half stripped and pulling herself into her leathers when she notices Gill carefully averting her eyes. Before she can think of a way of calling her new friend on it, Gill is heading for the showers. Julie shrugs her shoulders and lets it go. She re-plaits her hair and calls "see you down there!" as a parting shot.

As always, Gill is later into the bar than the rest of them, and she joins up with Mitch, John and more of the lads from her area. Julie - along with Dave, having claimed that particular booth near the Pool table as theirs, is in the perfect spot to watch her come in, and begin to hold court.

This time, Dave is watching Julie, and she shouldn't be surprised when she hears the muttered challenge: "Dare you."

If he'd said it when she was sober, she might have chickened out. Probably not, as anything Dave Murray could do... But as it is, she's already had a couple of glasses, and given Gill's sudden modesty in the changing rooms before, it seems like an excellent idea. She grabs her pint, shakes herself up, heels giving her an easy gait as she approaches the group at the bar. Mitch catches her eye over Gill's head, and she winks, getting great amusement from his resulting blush. She takes a careful aim, but doesn't hit hard - just enough to get Gill's attention. And if her hand lingers on its target a moment longer than is normal, well, it's just enough time for Gill, without even turning round, to grasp Julie's wrist in a vice-like grip and draw breath to start her berating.

"If you don't remove that hand at once, Dave Murray, I will..." She trails off as her finger brushes against the smooth metal of Julie's pinky ring, and she realises that the flesh in her hand is not that of any man's.

"Well, Slap, I would if I could, but you're rather holding it in place."

Gill turns slowly, face momentarily ashen with a mix of shock, fury and horror at treating one of her fellow women to the tones she usually reserves for the tosspot males in their group.  
"Oh. I. Er, well..." Completely nonplussed.

Julie enjoys the experience, letting the tension hang in the air almost a second too long, before coughing gently and saying, "So, my hand, if you please..."

"Oh. Of course." Gill lets go, surprisingly gently, one finger remaining on Julie's pulse just a second longer than the others. Then, swiftly, she regains herself. "But if you ever do that again...Slap, I'll..."

"What, have me castrated, as you promised Dave? You're onto a losing battle there, you mad cow." She grins raucously as she says it, and those at the bar chuckle warily, lest Gill's temper erupt again. But it doesn't; she pauses for a moment and then bursts into hysterical gales of laughter, body shaking as she gulps in air in between.

"I am, aren't I?"

oOo

**December 31st, 1977.**

It's the last night of their time at Bruche, and Julie has come to the conclusion that she's actually going to miss it. When she first arrived, she'd been eager to get this bit over and done with: eager to get out on the streets properly, to get to know the other cops in her area, to start actually making a difference. By now, she has realised she is actually quite fond of some of the folks from the other divisions, and is going to miss them. Or at least, she's going to miss Gill. Who has managed to persuade her not to wear her leathers, just for tonight.

"You wear them every night off we have. Have you nothing a bit smarter?"

"What, you want me to appear in the pub in a dress, like you, you daft twat?"

"No, you knob, I know we'll never see you in a skirt this side of England winning the World Cup, but surely you could see your way into something more, I dunno... tailored?"

"Start preparing for when I'm going to be your boss, you mean? Only when you start calling me 'Ma'am'."

"You're so funny I just cracked a rib. Not that I don't like the leathers, mind. But it is New Year's Eve."

"Oh, alright. But only this once. And only because I want you to know what I'll look like when I'm a Super."

"Good one, Slap. See you down there."

It has become the running joke of the entire intake that Gill takes longer than anyone to get dressed of a night, but tonight, Julie is later in. She feels strangely nervous as she stands in the shadow at the door and watches her friend cast a searching glance round the crammed pub, towards their normal booth, the Pool table, the bar.

Then a familiar voice shouts over the music: "Lost your other half, Gill? Sure I could fill in for her."

"In your dreams, Murray. You couldn't keep up with me."

Julie smirks, watching as Gill looks Dave up and down with disdain as he turns to Mitch. As she walks across the room, she can hear him.

"You see, this is why I call them the terrible twosome. The rest of us are going to have to watch our backs with this pair around. Probably a good thing we're going back to separate Divisions, though I wish you luck controlling this one!" Gill's back looks like she is just contemplating twisting his bollocks off when Julie lays a hand on her arse.

"Oi!"

"Well I couldn't resist, Slap, given you've made me go to all this effort." Even Dave looks a little stunned to see his mate so dolled up, and Julie is dead chuffed to see Gill's face as she turns around.

For the first time since they've been here, she has left her hair down. It's bum length, wavy from continual plaiting, and hints of red chestnut gleam through the warm brown. She knows it brings out a sort of golden colour in her hazel eyes, and this is caught again in the amber beads around her neck. She has remembered, from an earlier conversation, that Gill is an ardent fan of old movies, and this influenced her choice of a vintage lounge suit that she thinks looks like something Katharine Hepburn might have worn. Gill looks up at her wordlessly, and her breath catches as she tries to speak.

"Well, Ma'am, you've certainly..." She flounders for words, and Dave picks up.

"Got a flair for surprising us, hasn't she?" He's looking at her in a queer kind of way, not the way he eyed her when they first met - as a potential conquest - not even in the way he eyed her once he realised she was 'one of the lads'. If his opinion mattered to her more, Julie might have given time to it, but as it stands, she is enjoying the speechless look on Gill's face far too much to care what Dave Murray thinks, or doesn't think.

"So," Julie breaks the spell, "are you going to buy me a drink, for all the effort I've gone to at your request?" Still somewhat speechless, Gill blinks a couple of times and nods, making for the bar. Julie shouts after her, "Mine's a scotch!"

The music is good that night; the pub has got in a DJ, and they've got a few lights and a mirror ball and turned the normal lighting down a bit. From the dance floor, Julie sees Gill bring the round back to the booth, only to find her friends are up and dancing. That is to say, Mitch is shuffling uncomfortably; Dave is, tipsily, giving it all he has, and Julie, if she does say so herself, is moving perfectly in time to the music, hair swaying out behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Gill neck her drink, then saunter towards them. Quickly, she looks back to the others.

oOo

At gone ten to midnight, Dave has managed to wind himself around June, much to the disgust of half the men in the room. Mitch is up at the bar, making eyes at the bar maid - quite successfully, it would appear - and Julie is still dancing with anyone who can keep up with her. In the flashing coloured light, she spots Gill disengaging herself from the advances of one of Dave's friends. She looks like she's heading for the bar, and Julie turns back to the group she's with. She is completely oblivious to Gill coming up behind her, and jumps when she feels a smart slap to her bum. Just then, the DJ introduces the count down.

Gill grins cheekily up at Julie and quips, "Sauce for the goose and all of that."

"You can feel me up anytime, Slap." It's lightly and quickly said, in the heat of the moment - and because of the whiskey that has been drunk - but even so, Julie watches Gill's response carefully, and feels inward relief when she just grins.

"I know!" Gill quips, as they link arms in preparation for Auld Lang Syne. Even in her heels, she's still more than half a foot shorter, and as they get pressed together to fit everyone into the circle, Julie finds her elbow nestling far too comfortably on the edge of Gill's breast. But Gill doesn't seem to notice - or care - as the clock tolls, and the opening bars of music sound. Arms and legs and hands all seem to come together in one sprawling mass, the way they only can when Auld Lang Syne is danced by drunken coppers; in and out they rush, and sometimes she feels the breath of Dave, sometimes of Mitch, sometimes of Gill beside her. In and out, in and out, until the final notes die away and cheers sound. Dave turns back to June, and a number of the other blokes are wrapped round some of the local girls. Nobody is looking at the two women in the corner, as Gill reaches up on tiptoe and kisses Julie softly on the lips - swift enough that she barely has time to reciprocate before Gill is back on her own two feet, and, can it be, blushing?

Head rushing from the exertion, the booze, the excitement, Julie doesn't stop to think, but grasps Gill by the hand, moving backwards into complete shadow. She bends her head down and, uncertainly, lowers her lips to Gill's. This time it lasts longer, but it is Julie who breaks it off, unsure still. Under the continuing music, she can feel her heart pulse; she thinks she can hear ragged breath, and she's not sure if it's her own or Gill's. Next thing she knows, a hand is roughly pulling her head down, and lips are at her ear, and she knows then that it is Gill's breath that matches the beat of her own heart.

"I think we should leave, don't you?" She can barely see those green eyes in this light, but they're glowing with desire, and she's not going to refuse something that has crossed her mind many times in the last three months. They manage to slip out quietly, without saying goodbye to anyone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Present**

The tea is well-stewed by the time Julie stirs from her reverie, and she only does so because she hears a groan from the sitting room.

"Just coming!" she calls, picking up the mugs in one hand and a box of paracetamol in the other.

Gill receives the tea gratefully and swills the first gulp round in her mouth. "Urgh. Why do I do it?"

"Do what? Retire? Get drunk? Vomit?" The words are out before Julie considers that they might seem like too pertinent a jibe, but Gill seems to take them in the spirit they were spoken.

She grimaces. "All of the above. Thanks for the brew, Slap." Gill pats the sofa beside her. "Make yourself at home, shouldn't have to invite you."

Julie eases herself onto the soft cushion, kicking at her shoes till they come off. Then she fidgets a bit, finally bringing her legs up underneath her.

"Comfy now?"

She nods, and Gill snuggles down on to her shoulder. Silence reigns awhile, save for the swish of tea. Slowly, Julie recalls the many times they have ended a night out in a similar way during the past decade - exhausted and comfortably numb, although without Gill's overt suggestions of tonight. In the years since Gill's marriage, since Julie insisted they leave behind the shagging pals aspect of their relationship, they have gradually become content to be in close physical contact at times like this. She likes it. The soft touch of Gill's skin, the relaxed way she treats Julie as an extension of her own body. She can't help but admit that it would be nice to have that outside of a drinking session.

"See what I mean?" Gill murmurs. "We work well together."

Julie had thought Gill was falling asleep over her half-finished tea, but no.

"I mean, we fit together, you and me. Always have done." She turns her face up towards Julie's, so that her nose is rubbing against her chin, and awkwardly, tries to plant a kiss, which half misses its mark.

"Yeah." Quietly, pensively. "Yeah, we always have." Julie lifts her head to kiss a drowsy Gill on the forehead once more.

"I'm done with this cuppa. Aren't you going to take me to bed?"

"Put you to bed, more like. Where's your subtlety got to?"

"Buggered off along with my reputation. Since when did you care about subtlety, you daft twat?"

"If we're going to do this, Gill..." Julie pauses. "No, listen to me. If we're going to do this, then I am categorically not starting "us" by taking you to bed when we're both half-cut. It's just not happening, so get that into your thick skull now."

"Doesn't have to be sex," Gill mumbles. "I've plans for keeling over, myself. But I could use a hot water bottle."

"Oh, so that's what this is all about! Cupboard love! Come on, let's get you upstairs. I'll tuck you in, but that's all."

"Meanie," she pouts, ridiculously attractive for someone who is drunk and exhausted.

Julie pulls herself off the sofa and holds out two hands to Gill. "Come on, ups you get."

Gill allows herself to be coerced upright, only to stagger into Julie's arms, barely holding herself up. "Think I'll stay right here."

"Nope, some of us have work in...good grief, four hours. Come on." She guides the protesting Gill towards the stairs.

"Pull a sickie."

"And what would that say about your reputation, given you were all for keeping it intact only a few hours ago?" Julie laughs as she pulls Gill onto the first step.

"S'not my reputation you need to worry about!" Gill retorts.

"Indeed. If I call in sick the morning after your retirement 'do', there will be hell to pay. You may not have invited Karen Zalinski, but she knows damn well that you invited me."

"Ridiculous!"

"Oh, here we go." She rolls her eyes and looks down at Gill, who leans heavily against her as they make it up the last few steps. "Come on. In here." She pushes open the bedroom door, sits Gill on the side of the bed and rummages under her pillow for her nightie. It is one of those soft jersey ones, and she puts her arm through it so as to be ready to pull it over Gill's head. When she turns back, it would appear that, drunk though she may be, Gill's fingers have lost none of their speed - she's sitting topless, pink blouse and lacy bra on the floor, looking thoroughly pleased with herself, with a grin to make the Cheshire Cat jealous.

"For heaven's sake!" Julie mutters as she crosses the room. "Put that on before you catch cold. I can see why you want a hot water bottle, but can I suggest you put the heating on instead?"

"Nope! Want you." Gill's voice is a little hazy, spoken through the soft folds of the nightie over her head.

"Bollocks, you want a good night's sleep." She bends down and catches Gill's ankles, working the stockings off her feet, then swings Gill's legs up onto the bed. "Come on, jeans off."

"You can undress me anytime, Slap."

"I know that, had far too much experience of it. And it's that experience that tells me you're fit to get your own jeans off."

Gill is pouting again, as Julie moves to the bottom of the bed to pull at the hems of the jeans. She can't resist lightly tickling the fine-boned foot in front of her, taking in the pink toenails that match Gill's hands just before her heel kicks out. Jeans in one hand, Julie moves away, her other hand in the air, a peace offering. She picks up the discarded top and bra and moves over to the laundry basket. A pair of lacy cerise knickers lands on her shoulder.

"Bloody hell!"

"You going to tuck me in, then, or what?"

"Patience, woman! Not that you ever had much of that." Julie moves back towards the bed, where Gill has done nothing to help herself under the covers, and is simply lying there, grinning. "Come on!" Julie heaves the covers out from under Gill, reaches behind to lift Gill's torso up and reposition the pillow underneath her, then replaces the covers, patting round the edges. "There."  
She allows herself a moment of enjoyment at how deftly good she has got at doing this, even when fairly drunk herself.

"Aren't you going to give me a goodnight kiss?"

"Child!" But Julie leans down, aiming once more for Gill's forehead. Of course, that is her undoing; as Gill shifts her head upwards to catch the kiss on her lips instead, she also reaches out, and although smaller than Julie, she has her at an awkward angle and overbalances her onto the bed. Onto herself, as a matter of fact.

"Oooph!" Julie gasps, winded by the fall. She can feel Gill's bony hips under her tummy, and the slight heave of her ribcage as Gill struggles for breath.

"Oooph yourself, you fat cow. Gerroff!" Gill mumbles underneath her.

"Well, that's nice! You pull me down here and then tell me to go!"

"Not go. Just...over there." Gill's pushing at her, without much effect. Now that Julie is horizontal, she's not sure when she'll be able to get vertical again - certainly not in the next couple of hours. She groans as she rolls over to the other side of the bed and attempts to get her own trousers off. Gill doesn't help matters by snuggling in to her, head on her arm, hands around her waist. Finally, Julie gets the trousers off and flings them in a black heap to the floor. Her bra she manages to pull off without taking off the green top - it's comfy enough, she can sleep in it.

"There's a t-shirt under your pillow." Gill mutters, almost incoherently.

"Hmm?" She pulls it out; it's one of her own, left here for convenience, for nights not unlike this, only those times she has ended up in the spare bed. Slowly, the evidence drops into place.

"You had this planned all along, didn't you, Slap?"

"Didn't get to where I am without a bit of forethought." Gill is barely audible by now, and by the time Julie has swapped her going out top for the t-shirt, gentle snores are emanating from the head by her side. She leans over, turns the light off, and falls back on to her own pillow, one arm trailing loosely around Gill's curled up form, hand lightly on her back.

As her body relaxes and warms to the bed, Julie starts to giggle quietly at the dichotomy of Gill's planning and lack of follow through. Still, there'll be time enough, if this is for real. Part of her would love to lie awake and savour the novel experience, but the logic that morning is coming all too soon overcomes that urge. Julie closes her eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**1984  
**  
Julie casts one last glance in the mirror: the tailored viridian blouse makes her eyes greener than normal; it is tucked into high-waisted charcoal trousers that accentuate her figure, and the three-inch heels give her an imposing stature. Just the kind of look a newly made Detective would want to give off. To mark the event, she's had her hair bobbed, not too short, but enough to get rid of the remnants of the perm she'd foolishly attempted. Not bad.

Nor is her life, she thinks. Having managed to get her own place, albeit just a small flat, she is self-sufficient, with nobody to complain about the late hours she gives to work, and the pub. The transition to Detective might have taken two years more than it took Dave, but that was par for the course, as was the fact that he had a far better sex life than she did. It is, after all, still a man's world, and she doesn't begrudge him, much. And since he's the one organising this bash tonight, she'll not complain too loudly. A thought strikes her, and she picks up the phone, dials a number.

"Oh, um, hello, Mrs Prescott. I was just wondering, is Gill in?" Of course Gill's mum doesn't recognise her voice, why should she? "It's Detective Constable Julie Dodson, we trained together." It still feels very grand to be saying "Detective", by way of introduction. The rank may be on a level with uniform, but everyone thinks more of the CID placement. "Oh, right," she rolls her eyes at the response on the other end of the line, "I see. Well, does she have a phone there? May I have the number? _Yes_, it is work-related." She scrambles round for a pen and paper, scribbles the number down. "Many thanks, Mrs Prescott. Yes, yep, of course. Thank you. Cheers, Bye." Doesn't bother putting the receiver down, just presses the button and redials.

"Hiya, Slap, how's tricks?"

"Good God woman, which hole have you crawled out of?"

"Well since you ask, the CID office in Rochdale nick."

"Get away, they've never bloody made you a Detective?"

"Nice to hear from you too, Slap. And if you can quite get over your jealousy, I was going to suggest you might want to come join us down at the Welcome Inn in Oldham. Dave, you remember him, Dave Murray? He's throwing a party for us, and I was just thinking, it's been, what, three years since you last deigned to show your face up this neck of the woods." She tries to keep it neutral, not wanting to remind Gill of the last time she turned up on one of their nights out, pissed as a newt.

"Well fuck me sideways and call me a letterbox..."

"Mm, if only."

"No, seriously, Slap, well done cock. When's this party? Tonight?"

"Yeah, starting any time now - sorry it's such short notice and all..."

"I get it, you've just been doing the maths and realising there'll be bugger all people there, and you need a few space fillers."

"Summat like that. Mind you, if I wanted a space filler, I wouldn't call you, you skinny bitch."

"Charming. Right, well, if you want me there I'd better get off and see about getting dolled up."

"Just don't be too late, I know you!"

Gill giggles on the other end of the line. "I think you'll find seven years of shift work has improved me. See you later, Slap."

"See you." And the phone clicks.

She's already half way down the street before she wonders about her sanity. Every time, it's the same. Every time, she promises herself she won't reach out to Gill. But Christ, the woman is like a drug. New Year's Eve at Bruche, that had been the first time, passionate and fumbling, with all the excitement and tension...and the next day, Gill had been so blasé. It was a one off, she'd said. A heat of the moment thing. Julie was a good mate, but she was not going to risk her career on a relationship that may or may not work out. Especially not with James Anderton as Chief Con. The man's notions of morality were notoriously stringent. Then, they'd been moving back to their own Divisions anyway, so Julie had just buckled down and thrown herself into the remainder of the probationary period, regular nights on the town with Dave providing a welcome distraction. That had led to them bumping into Gill one night about six months later, and they'd had such a good time, and a great laugh, that the pair of them had resolved to meet up more often. Which they had done, at first. And then, of course, they'd ended up on someone's floor, drunk again. And Gill blamed the alcohol the next morning, and that was that.

It wasn't that that there was ever any strangeness between them, or any imbalance. Gill always treated Julie exactly the same no matter how their night ended, and Julie was fine with that. On some of their nights out, Gill would bring a lad (a different one each time) with her from her own Division; more often she'd pick one up during the night. Other times, she would turn that pouty look on Julie, who could never refuse. In fairness, it wasn't as if Julie had the sex life of a nun either; she just didn't bring her dates on work nights out, so was always available (and, when it came to it, willing) when Gill turned to her.

Slowly, however, as the responsibilities of work built up, and the pressures of proving oneself twice capable, as a woman, grew stronger, their nights out had got fewer and fewer, until they'd reached the point of only sending occasional jokey postcards, bearing witty one-liners. Recently, even those had become rare. There were so few, in fact, that Julie hadn't even gathered that Gill had finally moved out of her parents' home, as she'd been threatening to do for years. It would have been easy to just let the friendship drop, and maybe she is insane for getting back in touch, but what the hell. Asides from missing the occasional sex, she misses her friend's camaraderie - Dave is alright in his way, but Gill, Gill is one of her kind.

The music is blaring by the time she reaches The Welcome Inn; Dave Murray props up the bar, and some blonde is propping up him. He catches sight of Julie as she enters, and already has a double Scotch ready and waiting for her by the time she makes her way over.

"Start as you mean to go on, Detective Dodson." He's already slurring slightly, but bearing that amiable grin that makes him so appealing, apparently, to the opposite sex. "Gotta drink the real stuff now you've joined the big boys." Julie snorts, but takes the drink with pleasure. She has proved, over seven years, that she is more than a match for Dave, whether on pints or spirits.

"Sorry no decorations, Ju, got kinda caught up..." He indicates the blonde, who appears to have less brains than clothing, and Julie nods dismissively. It wasn't as if she wanted a 'party', anyway. If she had, she wouldn't have let Dave be the one to organise it, given a piss up in a brewery was about the height of his talents. How it is that he's already been invited to take his Sergeant's exams, and is, in fact, quite likely to pass, she just can't fathom. She finishes the scotch and orders a pint.

"By the by, I invited Gill Prescott along. You remember her?"

"How could I forget? Still pains me, that. The one that got away... Never forget the one that got away."

"Unlike the ones that got caught, present company excepted, of course?" She uses that sickly sweet smile that anyone with any wit knows is nothing of the sort, but neither her friend nor his date seem to notice.

"Nope, not me, never forget!" He turns to the blonde and explains. "This girl in training was something else, real firebrand. Put me right in my place, didn't she Ju?"

"That she did, and then some. Totally deserved, I might add."

"Never noticed her castrating you for the same thing, though."

"Well that would be a bit difficult, wouldn't it?"

"Hmm, well. Perhaps you've got something I don't?" He leers.

"What, like a pair of balls?" The retort is slightly drier than she meant it, but Dave laughs heartily.

"Yer almost as good as a man, Dodson. Congrats again." He raises his glass to her, then rethinks, bangs the bar with his hairy fist.

"Oi, listen up, you lot! We are here tonight to celebrate the aus...ausp...grand occasion of WPC Dodson becoming Detective Constable Dodson, the first woman to be made Detective in Rochdale. Think that deserves a round of applause, don't you?" Cheers and whoops sound over the clapping, and then, from the doorway, a voice pipes up;

"For she's a jolly good fellow..." and the whole crowd joins in.

Strangely, Julie finds herself a little moist around the eyes, and stares pointedly into her pint to regain her composure. So the whack to her backside comes as quite a shock, and she jumps as Gill then claps her on the back.

"Well done, Slap! What'ya drinking, pint? Here, you -" she beckons the lad behind the bar "- can we have a round over here, another..." She glances over at Dave appraisingly. "Two lagers, and a glass of red wine, make it a big one, ta!" She spots Dave's date. "And the same for her as well please." She grins up at them all, "Who's up for getting hammered? I am," as she hands over a tenner with one hand and takes a large swig of wine with the other.

"See what I mean?" Dave turns to the blonde, who smiles politely.

"See what?" Gill demands, forthright as ever.

"Dave was just explaining how you made him sing in a high pitch back at Bruche. Personally, I think he was going easy on your reputation, but there, trust a man to never completely admit when a woman's got one over on him." Julie leans over to Gill. "But then, maybe you wanted to leave him part intact, for future use?" There is a wicked gleam in her eye as she says it, and she watches Gill's shoulders bristle.

"He wouldn't know what to do with me, would you Dave?"

"I could have a good try..." He sounds eagerly lecherous, and it's enough for the girl on his arm to detach herself in disgust and walk away. "Now look what you've done!" He pads after her, apparently proclaiming his innocence.

"Nicely done." Julie's nodding her head appreciatively.

"Actually, I've heard Dave's quite good in bed, wouldn't mind putting him to the test some night, only when I've made CID myself, mind. But enough of that, how's life with you, Detective Slap?" Gill speaks so quickly that Julie has to speed through her tummy turning at the idea of Gill and Dave engaged in some clinch, to form some kind of coherent answer.

"Oh, y'know, just the same old. Nicking idiots and filling in paperwork. Dream of the day when I get let loose on someone other than a brain dead mugger, or some petty theft wannabe mastermind. Wouldn't be anywhere else, though. You?"

"Sounds about right. I was speaking to the DI in our nick about putting in for transfer as soon as. I'm bored bloody rigid helping to mop up wet weekends who think lying for their boyfriend is going to help matters. And they always send the women to do that, never the men."

"Reckon it's likely?"

"Well you made it, didn't you? Lucky, too, to manage it in your own nick. DI Fielding seems to think I might have to be prepared to move Divisions, but that doesn't bother me. Only applied to South Manchester because I was still at home. This place we're sharing is only down the road from here, actually, so it makes no odds where I am, really."

"Who're you living with?"

"Oh just a couple of girls from Sale nick, bloody wet wipes the pair of them, but at least they're not my mother."

"Mmm, I had a chat with her and all, this evening."

"What? Why?" Gill turns sharp eyes up to Julie's.

"To get hold of you, you dozy cow. Though I did tell her that it was work business, she sounded so wary when I said who it was."

"Yeah, well, she always was suspicious of you."

"My reputation precedes me, eh? What on earth did you tell her?"

"Didn't have to tell her anything cock, your leathers said it all!"

"They were a bit out of place in that beautiful hallway, weren't they?" Julie chortles at the memory.

"I don't think my mother has ever had someone quite like you within fifty feet of her bloody Begonias, let alone stride over the threshold in quite the way you did..."

"So presumably you're not intending on showing her your current get up, then?" She casts an appreciative glance down at the tight-fitting leather trousers that are gracing Gill's slender legs. "Nice... Bit new looking, though."

"What my mother doesn't see won't hurt her. And yeah, I haven't had much call for wearing them yet, but I figured a night out with you lot was as good as any for breaking them in. Though I see you're reckoning to dress the part of Detective, very swanky, I'm sure."

"Yeah, and not half as comfy as my usual gear. You good for another?"

"Ask a stupid question!"

"Glad to see nowt's changed." Julie signals to the bartender for a new round, just as Dave comes sloping back, empty handed. "Aww, did she lose interest, Murray?"

"Bugger you, Ju. Anyway, I'm getting my revenge."

"What's that then?" she begins to quip, when the DJ announces:

"Now folks, I've been made aware that we have a very important person in the room tonight...a very important person indeed..." The penny begins to drop and Julie looks daggers at the grinning miscreant. "Not only is Rochdale's - and we won't hold that against her, being here in Oldham - not only is Rochdale's newest Detective Constable the first woman to grace the CID office there, but we have been reliably informed that she's a good, even a great Karaoke singer, so how's about you get up here, DC Julie Dodson, and give us a song?" And before she can try to duck, the spotlight has moved towards the bar, and some awful jingle is playing, and what feels like the entire room is clapping and chanting... Not least, Dave and Gill.

"Tosser!" She hisses at him, as Gill pokes her in the ribs.

"Go on, Slap, never heard you sing before, this should be good." And when Julie looks like she's hesitating a bit too long, she adds "Dare you."

That settles it. Julie allows herself to be pulled over to the DJ, and makes a show of glancing down the song list, though she actually chooses the first track to catch her eye: she's been singing Smokey Robinson's "I second that emotion" from the time she was ten and it first came out. Which is probably how Dave even knows she can sing at all - she does have a habit of belting old numbers out while in the showers at work. And as the opening bars start to play, and there is a smattering of applause and cheers, she settles into the beat...

_"Maybe you'll wanna give me kisses sweet  
But only for one night and no repeat..."_

It occurs to her that the subconscious is a strange thing, as she catches a queer look in Gill's eye at the other end of the room. She's grinning, almost manically, but there is more there than humour. Julie doesn't need to look at the words, so can give her attention to the room. That's when she notices the change in Dave Murray.

_"And a taste of honey's worse than none at all..."_

He is looking down at Gill, who is completely oblivious, and the expression in his eyes is one she's never seen him give to a woman before; it is utter devotion. Momentarily, Gill glances up to him, mid laugh, and Julie thinks, for a second, that she sees her friend recognise the look in his eyes, before she shakes herself and turns back to the performance.

_"Oh little girl, In that case I don't want no part  
I do believe that, that would only break my heart..."_

There is an uproar at the end, as she steps away from the mic, with a grin to the DJ, who is looking a little blown away himself. Gill meets her on the dance floor.

"That was dead good! You never let on you could sing before!"

"That's because you were always held back in the classroom arguing with the tutor while I had made it to the showers..."

"No, seriously, I mean, I love karaoke - I'm shit at it, don't have a note in my head, but still - and I never knew you could sing, not like that!" It's not often Gill looks this impressed.

"Happen I was in a group before I joined up. But I only ever sing in the shower these days...which would be how that cretin knows."

"You're not telling me that Rochdale has communal changing rooms? I can't believe the Chief Con would go for that!"

"Oh bugger him, he wouldn't have a lot of things...but the ladies' has been out of order these last six months, something about the drains. So it's supposed to be timeshare, but..."

"Yeah, I can imagine." They're interrupted at this point by Dave bringing whiskys all round.

Julie glances at him sharply. "Hope you're not trying to get us drunk, Murray? Because you know I can have you under a table any night of the week." She takes a glass from him.

"Not trying anything, Dodson, just being nice, since I threw you to the wolves...although nothing seems to phase you. Well played, chuck." He might be trying to sound sincere, but his eyes are hungrily settling on Gill.

"So tell us about this group you had, Slap." She accepts her drink without even looking at Dave, which makes his grin slip slightly. "What stuff did you sing?"

"Oh anything, really, and we didn't last long. Only a year or two. Nothing to shout about, did parties, played the local joints, that was about the height of it."

"Wish I could sing."

"You've got other vocal talents, love, like making Dave here feel like he's two foot tall and pre-pubescent. That should content you enough."

"Hey, leave it out..." He might have been about to complain further, but the music changes to Flashdance, and with a twinkle in his eye, he pulls Gill towards him and starts to dance. Grudgingly, Julie has to admit, he has improved in that department. She saunters off the floor and joins a group of lads from work.

"How does Murray get all the lookers?" One of them asks, and Julie snorts.

"He hasn't got her, not if I know Gill."

"Try telling him that. He looks besotted." Julie has to admit, he has a point. She orders a couple of drinks - one for her, one for Gill, when she escapes Dave's clutches. He's had quite enough, as far as she's concerned.

oOo

By half-eleven, Dave is lolling on a bench looking far the worse for wear. Not that Julie gives a damn, she's been dancing with Gill this last half hour, and thoroughly enjoying those new leathers. Whatever suspicions she had earlier about Dave's intentions, and Gill's potential reciprocation, have been allayed by the latter's typical form of dancing sexily with anything and anyone - and by more than enough scotch on her own part. Karma Chameleon begins to play, and Julie has a genius idea.

"Come on Slap, up you get!" Long legs make short work to the nearest table, and she's on the stool, then on the table-top.

"What the hell? You mad cow, we'll break it."

"Not you, at any rate...I might, though!" And she pulls again at Gill's arm, until she acquiesces and climbs, unsteadily, on to the table.

"Ow, fuck! If I break my ankle thanks to you, you daft bitch, I'll never let you hear the end of it. I swear to God, I'll cuff you..."

Julie pulls her in tighter, in a show of making sure she doesn't fall, and whispers in her ear, "Promises, promises!" and is pleased to see a smirk replace the irritation.

"You're going to get me a reputation as bad as your own, Slap, and then what'll I do?"

"Come work with me in my nick?" Julie can feel the heat rising between them, the friction of leather against her trousers, the twitch of Gill's hips as she grinds into her.

"Now that is tempting."


	5. Chapter 5

**Present**

"Y'wanna brew?" Julie wakes to the grin in Gill's voice, and rubbing a hand across her face, opens her eyes to see her standing by the bed, mug of steaming tea in one hand, painkillers in the other, looking far better than anyone who drank so much the night before has a right to. Sunlight is streaming in the gap in the curtains, and as her brain begins to function through the throbbing head, Julie realises that she has slept a lot more than the three hours she meant to have.

"Fuck!"

"Yes please, but you might need to phone Karen back and tell her you won't be in after all." Gill smirks.

"What time is… What the hell do you mean?" She takes the proffered mug, holds out her other hand for the pills and scrutinises Gill's twinkling eyes. "What've you done this time?"

"Oh, nothing, I just phoned in and told her you were shagged out and would be in later..."

"Bollocks!"

"She was very understanding, I think, said something about how she'd been waiting for this to happen, but that if you weren't at your desk by one..."

"No seriously, what did you do?"

Gill gives in. "Phoned HR and pretended to be you, said you were taking some TOIL this morning. Got some little squirt who didn't even seem to know who you are, so you're safe enough."

Julie relaxes back on to her pillow and downs the paracetamol. "Urgh. How come you're so lively on it, doesn't seem fair."

"Must be a side effect of retirement; I woke up half an hour back feeling like an eighteen year old."

"More likely the fact that you heaved your guts up on the side of the road, much to the cabby's delight."

"Or that. Shift your backside." Gill budges Julie's knees under the duvet as she perches on the bed.

They sit companionably in peace for a few minutes, before Gill, staring into her mug, says: "I still mean it, you know."

"I know." Julie gives her a warm look.

Gill glances up at her in surprised joy. "I wasn't sure... I guess I rather threw that at you, last night."

"You rather threw yourself at me, actually."

"Oh sod off, I do not throw myself at people, and anyway, you know what I mean."

Julie hoots derisively. "Maybe not when sober, Slap, but you sure as hell do when drunk!" The words are jokey, but as soon as they're out, Julie worries that Gill might see them as pointed, which they weren't intended to be at all. Thankfully, she doesn't seem to notice.

"I do not! I do not act at all differently when drunk." She pauses a moment, considering. "Well, maybe I do a little. But no more than anyone else. No more than you, for that matter."

"Well I don't make Rachel Bailey look like a nun, unlike certain people I could mention..." She tips Gill a broad wink, and is rewarded with raucous laughter.

"Excuse me lady, it wasn't me who thought it was a good idea to get a game of strip poker going at my last birthday!"

"And promptly lost every hand to Mary, I know, not my cleverest moment, I admit. But you were only one layer behind me, so I don't see that it makes you any better."

"Wasn't my idea in the first place." Gill looks smug.

"Yeah, well. I still haven't danced topless singing..." Julie cuts herself off, chuckling.

"It's always going to come back to that, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Slowly the giggles lapse into a further silence, and Julie massages her temples. Wine, followed by shots, followed by whiskey, was probably not the best recipe for a clear head in the morning. Gill glances sideways at her.

"So...will you… What do you think...about what I said?" She laughs ruefully. "Listen to me, I do sound like Rachel! Ridiculous." She shakes her head.

"Well, Slap, I already gave you my answer, but if you were too far gone to comprehend it..."

"When? You did no such thing!"

"Not my fault you weren't listening, Slap." Julie downs the remains of her tea.

"Bollocks. So what do you think?"

"That I should have a shower." She nudges Gill with her knees until she shifts enough that Julie can swing her legs out of the bed and stand up. Momentarily, her head swims; the pause is time enough for Gill to stand up and lay a hand on her arm. Julie looks down at her and is floored by the expression on her face.

It is a mix of fear - almost trepidation, joyful wonder and utter devotion. Julie has never seen Gill look like that at anybody, or anything, before. Sure, there have been moments where she's caught an unguarded hunger and wondered if she was ever the cause of it, but this, this is something different. The sheer desire that is rolling off Gill in waves is enough to make Julie catch her breath, before she dips her head to gently kiss those pouting lips.

It is as if an electric current has just passed through them, and what was meant to be a reassuring kiss becomes a force of nature; lips against lips, tongues intertwining, little moans surfacing and somehow finding air. Somehow her fingers are on Gill's back, inside her top, and Gill's hands are stroking her neck and her thigh, her hips giving just a little squirm against Julie's legs, a hinted push back towards the bed.

She finally breaks off the kiss to whisper, "Later, I promise." Gill meets her eyes, and Julie can see disappointment tempered with understanding. Gill knows Julie has worked hard to get where she is, and that has not come without some sacrifice. She nods.

"I'll get you a towel, and put breakfast on." She leads the way to the airing cupboard on the landing and then, even though Julie knows the house as well as her own, to the bathroom. "There's a spare toothbrush in the pot, the green one. Anything else you need?"

"No, no, that's...fine. Thanks, Slap."

Gill nods, and turns to leave the room. As she starts to shut the door she calls back, "Sweet or savoury for breakfast?"

"Guess!" Julie banters.

"Muffins it is then." Gill gives her one last look up and down, eyes lingering on Julie's long, bare legs, smirking. "Enjoy yourself."

Julie grins as the door clicks closed. Her hangover cure of choice, for many years. She finds a spare flannel left with the body wash, and some of her own shampoo and conditioner in the shower. Gill really did have all of this planned, didn't she? It almost scares Julie - almost, but not quite.

It is a nice bathroom, well stocked with smelly things: body rubs and bath salts, nice quality ones too. And the shower, this Julie has been looking forward to. It is more of a wet room than a shower, with two different heads and a blissful 'torrential rainforest' setting. She finds herself leaning her head against the smooth tiles, just letting the water pour over her, soothing her aching shoulders and somehow washing away the sore head.

With a grin for the memory it provokes, Julie starts to sing.

_"Oh, but if you feel like lovin' me  
If you got the notion  
I second that emotion..."_

Afterwards, feeling a good deal improved, Julie makes her way back to the bedroom and hunts out her clothing. She sniffs the green top and wrinkles her nose. It stinks of vomit. Hitching the bath sheet around her, she goes to the top of the stairs.

"Oi, Slap!" Gill appears at the foot, grinning at the sight above her. "Are you holding any more of my kit hostage? Don't suppose there's a clean top floating around?"

"I prefer to think of it as strategic retainment, and yeah, there's a couple in the wardrobe in the spare room."

Julie snorts and gathers her towel up before pushing open the door. Ten minutes later, she appears downstairs in a snazzy purple satin shirt and some tailored charcoal trousers.

"Strategic retainment? More like detained at her majesty's leisure! There were three tops, these trousers, that waistcoat that I haven't seen in years, and two pairs of knickers!"

"S'not my fault you're a messy cow and leave your things lying at your heel. If you will leave your knickers down the side of the bed, I reserve the right to hold on to them for times like this."

"Hmph, well at least I don't have to go in smelling of your vomit. Or dressed in last night's gear."

"How're you getting in? Probably wouldn't look good if I dropped you there."

"I doubt it. I'll get a cab. Bugger, where's my phone?"

"In your bag, where you left it. I used it to call in for you, and there weren't any messages then."

"Good." She disappears in to the settee, where, sure enough, her bag and phone are beside her shoes; which are not at all where she kicked them in the middle of the night. Gill, the inveterate tidier, has already been in. Julie calls her usual company as she slips on her heels, knowing their touchtone service so well by now she doesn't even have to listen to the options. Stuffing her phone into a pocket, she goes back into the kitchen and sits in the place indicated by Gill. A mug of tea is already steaming in front of her, and there is a choice of muffins: double chocolate, blueberry, raspberry and white chocolate. She picks the latter and Gill smirks.

"Don't know why I bothered giving you the choice!"

"What?"

"Every single time we have a night of it, you always have a raspberry and white chocolate one. It's like clockwork."

"Well, the chocolate helps the hangover, and the raspberry makes me think I'm being healthy..." The response is mumbled through a mouthful of muffin. Gill shakes her head derisively.

"You've got a skewed idea of healthy, woman."

"Says the skinny bitch eating thin air!"

"Excuse me, while you were serenading the neighbourhood - it's a long time since I've heard that song, by the by, still as good as you ever were... But like I was saying, while you were up there giving it your all, I was having a perfectly respectful round of toast, I'll have you know."

"Yeah, yeah."

Gill grins, and there is silence for a moment, before she asks: "What time will you be back tonight?"

"I'll take that as an invitation, will I?"

"Daft cow. If you're not back here tonight, I'll be down HQ to find you!"

"Mhmm, and how will you explain that to Karen if you see her?" Julie's eyes twinkle.

"I'm sure I'll think of something."

"You needn't bother. I'll be here."

"Good." Gill accentuates her approval with a nod, just as a car horn sounds.

"Christ, the taxi!" Julie stuffs the remaining muffin hastily into her mouth, swallows, and downs her tea, all whilst getting up. "Bag, coat," she mutters distractedly, as she runs back to the living room for the former. By the time she reaches the hall, Gill has her leather jacket in hand.

"Ta, Slap!" She looks down at Gill's upturned face, smiling. "Well, that was quite a retirement do! Enjoy your gardening today."

"Shut up and kiss me."

Julie cheerfully obliges, and only breaks off when the horn sounds again.

"See you later!" She fairly runs out the door.

Gill stands to wave her off, and, as the taxi pulls out, Julie can see her grin and shake her head, as if in blissful disbelief, before they turn a corner and she is lost from sight.


	6. Chapter 6

**June 1985, Rochdale CID**

Julie's fingers tap at the desk as the dialling tone buzzes in her ear. This is the first opportunity she's had to get to the phone, and she feels childishly excited. Finally, an answering voice.

"Hiya Slap, you good?" And without waiting for an answer: "Tell me, are you still thinking of transferring? Only one of our DCs has just put in his thirty days, and if you were quick, you could apply. I took the liberty of mentioning you - not by name - to my DI, and he seemed open enough to the idea, what d'you reckon?"

"Hell yeah!" Gill sounds suitably enthused on the other end of the line. "That would be great, far better than football duty, which is what I've been on these last few weeks."

"Who in their right minds would put you on potential riots, you're so bloody tiny they wouldn't even see you."

"Excuse you, lady, I happen to pretty handy with a baton..."

"Yeah, I'm sure you manage to get people in the knees quite often."

"Actually, I make it a bit higher than that, that's why I'm the secret weapon of Sale."

"In your dreams, more like."

"Oh sod off. In fairness, I haven't been down the stadium. Just more wiping bloody noses afterwards than I care for. If I wanted to look after stupid little shit-for-brains who go from kicking a ball around to kicking someone's head in, in nought to sixty, I'd have become a nurse."

"Which would be why, for the health of the nation, I'm suggesting you transfer here, you daft cow."

"Be careful what you wish for, Slap. Tell that DI of yours I'll have the papers with him by tomorrow evening."

"I will, don't make me regret it."

"You and me together, why would either of us regret that? Dave might, on the other hand... Is he still with there?"

"No, jammy bugger's managed to oil his way over to Vice. Don't see so much of him now."

"Oh, shame."

"Not really."

"Listen, I've got to go, else I'll be late for shift and that'll not look good on my transfer request. Hopefully see you soon though, eh cock? Cheers for the heads up, ta-ta." And Gill rings off.

oOo

**August 1985, Rochdale CID**

Six week later, and Julie's head snaps to the door the moment it starts to open, as it has every time someone's come in for the last half an hour. This time, she is gratified to see DS Frankie Waddington urging her mate in, from one step behind, clearly admiring the rear view. Gill's outfit makes a sharp contrast to Julie's laid-back trouser suit; in sharp lines and a tight fitting skirt, she looks every inch the professional woman. And she appears to be ignoring the wandering hands of the DS more easily than she would have done eight years ago. Far more easily than Julie herself does, for that matter.

"Well, Julie, here's your comrade come to join us at last. Dave said I should never partner the two of you together, unless I want walked all over... The terrible twosome, he called you, what d'you say about that?" Jovial as ever, he doesn't want, or wait for, an answer, before turning to Gill. "Now, my dear, you'll be working with DC Alf Bell, who'll be in some time this side of elevenses, I'm sure; but in the meantime you can have the desk opposite Julie, see how you get on there. I've got to go out now, but I'm sure she'll show you the ropes, and don't be shy of coming to see me, anytime." There is a definite leer when he emphasises the last word, but Gill just smiles politely, before giving him the fingers as he walks out.

"Well, Slap, here we are!" Gill positively bounces across to Julie, who stands to greet her. Then she whispers, "Is he always that hands on? How the hell do you put up with it?" Julie leans back on her desk, raises her hands in mock resignation, and is about to reply when Gill interrupts. "Is that a wedding ring you're wearing? Who'd you have to bribe for that? What's he getting out of it? Anyway, I didn't think you were the marrying type."

Julie rolls her eyes. "It's not, and I'm not. Trust you to be the first one to pick up on it..."

"You'd almost think I was a Detective, in fact!" She smirks.

"Clearly a rubbish one, you've done no background at all. It's me mam's, she died six months ago. I'm the only daughter, so Dad gave it me, and I figured, why not wear it. Might even put some of the Frankie Waddingtons of this world off copping a feel every chance they get. Not him, mind. Point of honour, he tries it with everyone in a skirt."

"Christ, Julie, I'm sorry. Was she young? What happened? I mean, don't tell me if you'd rather not, I don't mean to pry, I'm just, well, that's utterly crap."

"Yeah. It is. She had asbestosis, worked in a mill before she married Dad, that's what did for her, or so the doctor reckoned." She pauses, not really knowing what else to say, and Gill's face is sombre for a moment before jumping to an easier topic.

"Anyway, when the hell did you ever wear a skirt?"

"When I was in Uniform, or has the jump over here addled your memory as well as your brains? I did put in a formal request for kecks, but someone upstairs seemed to think they weren't ladylike..."

"So I take it you took great pleasure waltzing in here on your first day in the finest trouser suit you could find?"

"Mhmm."

"Is everyone as lax as Frankie here, or this just an off day?"

"Well, Alf's alright. And the DI's not too bad. Most of them are just like Frankie, but from what I can see, it seems to be the same across the force. But I wouldn't have suggested it to you if I didn't think you could handle it."

"Course I can bloody well handle it. It just pisses me off, that's all. We work so bloody hard to get half of where they are, and here they are pissing it up against a wall."

"Yeah, me and all, Slap. At least it means being twice as good as any of them is actually not that hard. And now I've got the pleasure of your company," she snorts, "it'll even be fun."

Gill smirks. "Okay, so the DS is a tosser, there's no decent timekeeping, and integrity is as rare as virginity round here. So, what about these ropes you're supposed to showing me?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Present**

At six pm, Julie finds herself walking out of HQ with the Assistant Chief Constable, which is really not how she wants to end what has felt like the longest working day in some time. Her working relationship with Karen Zalinski has improved over the last year; she doesn't find herself stammering and at a loss for words all that often any more, can meet the other woman's eye without inwardly shaking - most of the time. All the same, she does prefer it when Karen sticks to work-related talk, so Julie's heart sinks when her opening gambit is nothing to do with policing at all.

"I believe it was DCI Murray's retirement party last night." In her clipped, precise tones, there is a faint but present query underneath the statement, one that Julie cannot quite interpret. "I'm sure it was a good night?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I hope it had nothing to do with your unexpected time off this morning?" Walking side by side, Julie can't read her expression well enough to see if there is even the tiniest hint of a joke - but it seems unlikely.

"Not at all, ma'am."

"Good. What will Gill do now? Has she plans for her retirement?"

"I... I really don't know, ma'am."

"Funny, I would have expected you of all people to know, Julie. Still, do give her my best regards, won't you?"

Inwardly cursing her superior for being wasted on ACC rank, Julie nods and attempts a smile. "Of course, ma'am." She wonders whether Karen has ever considered that she'd make an excellent DC in an MIT Syndicate. Criminal Forensic Psychology PhD or otherwise, the woman is a class one mind reader, or so it feels. Probably a tier five interviewer, too. Thankfully, they have reached the front of the building, where Karen's car and driver are waiting.

"See you on Monday, Julie. Have a good day off tomorrow."

Is that the faintest flicker of a wink she catches in the other woman's eyes? No, she's being ridiculous. Karen Zalinski is many things, but omnipotent is not one of them. Julie walks on to her own car. So much has happened from yesterday morning, when she left it there. Yesterday's Julie would have laughed at the possibility of a new relationship with Gill. Today, she's beginning to think anything could happen.

It is fifty minutes before she pulls up at her own house, and for a moment she sits in the SUV contemplating what she needs from inside. Would it be presumptuous to assume she'll be staying 'til Monday? She decides not, on the whole. And she can always claim forethought, if Gill comments.

Inside, she drops her handbag by the door, and, ignoring the mess of the open plan kitchen-living room, heads straight upstairs, two at a time. From the wardrobe in her room she grabs a tote bag and drops a couple of shirts into it. Next, a pair of dark jeans, charcoal suit trousers, a couple of changes of underwear, and then her hand touches some lace in the drawer. She pauses. But why not? Moments later, she's stripping down to change the fairly standard knickers and bra for a deep purple lace and satin set. It has been a long time since she's worn this one for anyone but herself. A nightie - dark green jersey with black lace panels between the chest and midriff - catches her eye. Not something she often wears, but this might be the occasion for it. She puts it in the tote and reaches for her trousers. Once redressed, she glances around the room. Her suit jacket she has left in work, as always; surely there's nothing else?

Halfway down the stairs she groans, dumps the tote bag and runs back up for her hairbrush, perfume and makeup bag. She manages to get as far as the door before remembering a comfy pair of boots to go with the jeans. Only by the time she is about to pull out does she remember her phone charger. Cursing, she retraces her steps, grabs the offending technology and returns to the car. Anything else can wait.

Forty-five minutes later, she lets herself in at Gill's and takes a moment in the hall to enjoy the sensation of walking into a warm, welcoming space. Music is playing in the kitchen - Joni Mitchell - and the smell of frying chicken is highly enticing. She abandons her bags by the stairs and approaches the kitchen quietly, stopping to lean on the doorframe and just watch. Gill, in comfy jeans and a loose-knit jumper, is presiding over the cooker with great intensity. She sways in time with the music, and is even humming along - badly out of tune, Julie notes with a grimace. She cannot help but join in when the chorus begins;

_"Do you want, do you want, do you wanna dance with me baby?..."_

Gill jumps noticeably, but turns round with a grin.

"Christ, Slap, don't do that! I could have decked you!"

"Oh, I think I could have held my own against you and a fish slice."

Gill glances ruefully at the utensil in her hand. "Five minutes ago it was a meat cleaver, and then where would you have been?"

"Given your aim, still standing here, you mad cow. But seeing as you're not in training for the circus, what are we having?"

"Who says you're getting food?"

"Well that's nice! You demand I come back here after a tiresomely long day and bugger all sleep, and then refuse to even feed me for my trouble. How about if I..." But before she can finish, Gill has put down the fish slice, switched the gas off, and moved across the room to place a hand on Julie's waist and raise her face for a kiss. It's a gesture to which Julie willingly responds. All the heat of the room seems concentrated between them, and Gill's hands seem to spark as one moves up Julie's back and the other works at untucking her shirt.

"Actually, I'm not sure I need food..."

"It'll keep anyway." Gill pushes up against Julie harder, kissing her with hunger and exploring the skin she can get at with eager fingers. She has Julie pinned against the doorframe, but it doesn't take much for Julie to loop her own hands around Gill's bum and lift her so that their faces are level. With Gill's legs wrapped around her, it only takes a couple of unsteady steps to sit her on one of the work surfaces, her back against a cupboard door, never once breaking their kiss. Then she can work her own way under Gill's jumper, under the t-shirt, and run her fingers lightly up her rib cage.

Julie feels Gill's hands leave her skin and move to unbuttoning the satin shirt. She pulls her lips away from Gill's for a moment to whisper, "I've been thinking of you undressing me all day..." and, moving her mouth up to Gill's ear, starts to lick the very bottom of the lobe, delicately at first; then sucking and nibbling.

"Can't have helped when you were in that Budget meeting…"

Julie pauses, murmuring, "On the contrary, it made it miles better!" before returning to her task with a will.

Gill's breath becomes thready and her hands fumble with the small buttons on Julie's shirt. Finally she is pushing at the sleeves to get the top off, and curling a hand around one of Julie's lace-cupped breasts.

"I'll swear you weren't wearing that last night, no matter how drunk I was..."

Julie grins, moves her hands down to grab a hold of the jumper and top together, and pulls them over Gill's head.

"I'm not the only one who changed..." She has to stand back a second to really take in the sight in front of her. There are no two ways about it - Gill is perfect. Of course, she's always known that. She's known that since Bruche, even before that memorable New Year's Eve when they ended up having passionate, messy sex in the ladies' bathroom. Anyone with eyes could see that beneath Gill's carefully laundered uniform blouse, she was perfect. But just occasionally, it hits Julie all over again - and to see her now, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling, breasts covered only in deep red silk, is breathtaking.

The momentary pause gives Gill a chance to slip down off the counter, and, taking Julie's hand, lead her into the living room. There, she notices all in one go, a fire has been lit, an as-yet unopened bottle of wine sits beside it, and the blinds have been pulled. The sofa is long and deep, and the throw across it velveteen soft. Before she can take any more in, Gill gently pushes Julie to lie down on the sofa, and, carefully stepping out of her jeans, straddles her and leans down to kiss her - first her lips, then down to her collarbone, her breast bone, fingers slipping behind her back to loosen her bra.

She moans softly as Gill brushes away the lace and satin and lowers her mouth to sweep kisses around Julie's breast. Her own hands trace the contours of Gill's back, one hand moving slowly down 'til fingers touch the silk of her pants. She pauses. Gill has shown her what she wants, but Julie needs to be sure. As if by telepathy, Gill looks up into her eyes, steadily, and whispers a simple: "Yes."

It is short, but firmly uttered, and Julie needs no second invitation, her index finger twining underneath the soft material, wrapping it round and pulling it tight against Gill's hip. Meanwhile, Gill trails her tongue lightly down to the edge of Julie's rib cage and brings her hands to work on undoing her belt.

"Should have got these off you before now," she giggles as she unzips the trousers and kneels upright. Julie arches her back and lets Gill push them down till they're resting on her knees. From there, she manages to wiggle them off - awkwardly, as Gill has taken to stroking the underside of her knee, up towards her thigh. One hand trails towards the purple satin knickers and presses against her, finger stroking gently but firmly over her heat. She leans down into Julie again without stopping, and once more lowers her lips to kiss and suck around her breasts.

Both Julie's hands are now underneath Gill's pants, one softly stroking her buttock, the other moving round, slowly, very slowly, to the front of her hip, cupping the bone and then caressing the apex of her thigh. Gill twists impatiently in her hands, trying to urge her to come closer, and Julie rests her hand briefly over her crotch, just for a second letting her middle finger flutter across her clit. Gill exhales deeply at that, and presses her body lower on to Julie's hand, insistent. But instead of giving Gill what she wants immediately, Julie moves both hands away, and slowly back up Gill's torso to unfasten her bra and let the straps fall down her arms, until Gill twitches it off. Then, with a twisting motion, Julie shifts around until she has manoeuvred them both onto their sides, facing one another. The movement gives her a chance to bring her lips down onto Gill's body, tracing her tongue down the fine arch of her neck, down, down, 'til she can circle each of Gill's breasts in turn, while her hands smoothly stroke; one on Gill's back, the other on her hip. She has fine soft hairs growing thickly in the small of her back, and underneath them, Julie can feel the tiniest beads of sweat building. As her tongue works in smaller and smaller circles, Gill's breath comes faster and rougher.

She lowers her mouth to Julie's ear. "Please..."

Glancing up into Gill's eyes, Julie sees her pupils dilated and her lips parted. Her hands are moving restlessly, one on Julie's hip, the other splayed over her midriff. Grinning, Julie hitches a finger around Gill's pants and pushes them down, so she can easily lower her fingers towards her clit. With her other hand, she reaches down, stroking Gill's buttock, running a finger lightly across, and further, and around, until she can touch her crotch with both hands. She dips a finger towards Gill's heat, finds her dripping wet and sensitive to the smallest touch.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Gill begins to move a hand down inside of Julie's knickers, her fingers curling into the hair there, stroking the skin underneath. And then it is Julie's turn to gasp, as Gill extends one long finger into her, stroking relentlessly. Within moments, Julie can feel her breath rising noisily, as Gill gains in confidence and tenderness.

Julie gives her front hand over to concentrate on Gill's clit, while letting the index finger of the hand cupping her from behind gently slide inside Gill, slowly at first, in and out, then with a deeper intensity. Her own panting is matched only by Gill's moans; Julie had almost forgotten how vocal Gill could be. It isn't long before they both come, together, crashing into each other and shaking, sighing.

There is a pause, a quietness that fills the air as their cries abate, and it feels like the stars have just come out on the clearest night.

Julie moves a hand slowly up Gill's back, holding her close, legs entwined again. She reaches up and, fumbling, brushes some hair off Gill's cheek with her thumb, before leaning in to kiss her, softly, on the lips.

"You alright?" she whispers. Gill nuzzles her nose into Julie's cheek, breath still coming in irregular gasps, body still shivering with the experience.

"Never better."


	8. Chapter 8

**1987, Julie's 30th Birthday**

Julie and Gill stand at the bar, regaining their breath from half an hours' worth of energetic dancing. The flashing lights make Julie's white Bianca-Jagger-style suit seem multicoloured, and she smiles inwardly as she catches her reflection in the mirror behind the counter. It's been a good night so far, though nothing wildly special, considering the occasion. Thirty years, she can barely get her head round it. Still, only as old as the woman you feel and all of that - and Gill has been the epitome of energy on the dance floor. Frankie Waddington, Alf Bell, Dave Murray and a few others are still there, making perfect pests of themselves to any woman who gets too close. Frankie has already tried it on once tonight with Gill, having long since learned that his routine doesn't work with Julie. How it ever worked with his wife, she doesn't know, but the poor woman seems to remain steadfastly unaware that her husband is a walking pair of groping hands. It hadn't worked with Gill, either, but Julie can't blame him for trying - she looks amazing, wearing a boned, wine colour corset in a dull satin, black bolero tux-style jacket, ruffled black skirt a few inches above the knee, and seamed black stockings, all finished off with killer heels. When Julie had first seen Gill that evening, a warm tingling sensation had spread from her abdomen, a surge of longing to remove each item piece by piece; but significant birthday though it may be, Gill has shown no inclination to that so far. However, she has danced with Julie almost exclusively, hands eager to hold and twist and turn as the rhythm of the music dictates. And that's enough.

'Sweet Child of Mine' begins to play, and Julie downs her scotch.

"Come on, Slap!" She pulls her friend back on to the dance floor. Though not all that close to the blokes, they are visible enough between Julie's height and unconventional dress and Gill's energetic dancing. It isn't long before Dave manages to work his way across, and where once Gill would have simply danced a bit closer to Julie, tonight she opens the space up to let him in. He wastes no time in taking the opportunity, and slowly, Julie notices, he manages to draw Gill a little nearer to himself, 'til it is Julie who feels like the spare part. By halfway through the song, they are clearly dancing together, and Gill has that sexy little grin that says she knows exactly what she is doing. By three quarters of the way, she has her arms round Dave's neck. Julie scowls momentarily, and moves over to join the blokes. She won't let it bother her. She won't. It's one dance, and she has had plenty throughout the night.

But a little voice inside her head keeps pointing out the expression in Gill's eyes as she looked up at Dave. And that little voice is very persistent, audible above the Guns 'n' Roses. She can't help but keep sneaking glances over at them, almost hoping that she'll look back and discover it is all an illusion. No such luck.

Frankie sees her distraction as an excellent opportunity to slide a hand round onto her bum.

Rolling her eyes, Julie extends a hand and firmly grips the offending wrist. "If you don't remove that hand, Frankie, you'll never move it again." His eyes are slightly glazed, but she spots a glimmer of comprehension, and when she lets go, he cradles his wrist to his chest.

"Mighty firm grim you have for a woman, Ju. Makes me wonder what you get up to off duty?" He is leering, and it makes her stomach turn.

"Nothing that would ever involve you, Frankie, believe me." She tries to sound a mix of dismissive and derisive, but in his current state he just takes it as a challenge.

"Ooer Alf, maybe we'd better hand this one over to Dave and lads on Operation Spanner."

Alf looks a bit uncomfortable. "Come off it, Sarge, just because she doesn't like you and she's got a firm grip don't mean she's one of them weirdos. Disgusting, I call it, them homosexuals. Our Ju's not like that." But Frankie has already gone off after another girl who has caught his eye. Julie grimaces and points to the bar, but Alf shakes his head, indicating that he is going to the blokes'.

She orders a double and downs it in one, trying to dislodge the bad taste that Frankie's mention of Operation Spanner has left her with. Not that she has any interest in BDSM at all; it's really not her thing, but the Chief Con's decision to go after a group of gay men for having consensual, albeit violent, sex, is one that feels very unjust. He wouldn't do that to a group of straight couples, she is certain. It rankles, too, that Dave Murray is involved in the Operation. Dave bloody Murray. Her supposed friend. Who right now has his tongue down Gill's throat. The sight makes Julie feel sick, more so than the many times she has seen Gill snogging any one of the variety of men she has briefly dated over the last few years. Somehow, this feels different. It's not even that that she fears losing her mate to Dave - she has a higher opinion of Gill than that - but she does feel a bit betrayed by him. Dave knows damn rightly he can have the pick of any girl in MMP and then throw them away when he gets bored. Why does he have to turn the charm on her best mate, of all women? Especially as he's always known she finds Gill attractive. She orders another, and one for Gill as well.

After the next song ends, Gill and Dave appear to separate, and while he goes off to the blokes', she comes back to the bar.

"Having fun?" Julie tries to keep her voice light and free of any bitterness. Gill grins up at her with blissful innocence.

"He's not all that bad, Dave. I think I misjudged him in the past." Julie hands her the drink, partly to shut her up. "Cheers, Slap, and happy birthday!"

"Yeah. Cheers." But somehow, she just can't muster the same level of excitement that Gill seems to have.

The bar rings for last orders.

"Am I still good for staying at yours? The girls hate it when I come in late." She doesn't even have to bat her eyelashes, Julie will never turn her down.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I've already got the sofa bed made up."

"What about..." Gill pauses, searching, "...Steph? She doesn't mind?"

Julie shakes her head. "Didn't I say? We called it off the other day. Tuesday, think it was. Not that she'd have been there anyway."

"Oh, sorry cock." Then, "Thought she was more of a keeper?" Gill nudges her in the ribs, grinning raucously. Julie can't restrain a guffaw.

"Don't be daft, Slap, what would I want with all that hassle? Quite happy as I am, thank you. Can see who I want, when I want, how I want." Slyly, she tips Gill a broad wink, and is gratified to see the responding smirk.

"Sage advice."

"Yeah, well, I learnt from the best!"

"Just what are you insinuating, lady?" Gill demands, with a look of mock offence.

"Don't have to insinuate anything, y'mad cow. Anyone with eyes and a brain can work it out for themselves. Anyway, you're just right. Settling down's no fun, can you imagine darning some tosser's socks and doing the laundry and all that crap, 'cause I sure as hell can't."

"Buggered if I'll ever darn someone's socks."

"No love, you wouldn't know one end of a needle from the other, would you?"

Gill grins as she downs her drink. "Daft bitch."

Half an hour later, they watch the blokes pour into Frankie's car, before walking unsteadily up the street to the taxi rank. No way is Julie prepared to get in a car with someone who has had as much to drink as any one of those men, and she is quite happy to insist that Gill doesn't, either.

Gill slides an arm through Julie's. "It's been a good night, thanks Slap! I hadn't seen Dave in ages." And in that moment, all Julie can do is silently consign Dave Murray to all the fires of hell combined. She's firmly regretting having included him in the general invitation she extended for the night, and it's maddening that Gill seems to be suddenly oblivious to the fact that he's a dickweed ball of slime. More frustrating still is her friend's unique tactlessness and wilful blindness to Julie's discomfort at his behaviour. It's not like they haven't spent hours bitching about his well-deserved reputation before now.

"Bollocks!" Gill looks stricken at a sudden thought. For a second, Julie wonders if she has come to her senses, and looks at her questioningly, eyebrow raised. "I meant to get you to do karaoke tonight, and I completely forgot!"

Julie laughs, albeit a little forcefully at first, trying to dislodge her annoyance at Dave's presence in her thoughts. As Gill joins her, delighted drunken giggles rippling through her ears and into her heart, Julie's own laugh comes more naturally. Without even knowing why, they continue, until both are so raucous they can barely walk. In between cackles, she gasps, "If it matters that much to you, I'll sing you something when we get home, you daft cow."

"Why not here and now?" Gill strikes a pose, which might echo an opera singer if one squinted, and Julie leans on to a railing, nearly hysterical. "What's so funny?" Gill demands.

"A fine sight we'd look down Oldham nick, arrested for disturbing the peace!"

Gill manages to hold her stern face for a second before collapsing into more giggles. "I suppose you're right..."

"I know I am."

"...but won't your neighbours mind you singing your heart out in the middle of the night?"

"Actually, the ones below me moved out last week..."

"I wonder why!"

"...and you know my gaff's an add-on to the top floor of the house; none of the others in the terrace come up as high, so there'll be no arresting the singing detectives tonight." Slowly, the laughter trails off into intermittent bursts of chuckling, leaving only a sense of wellbeing and contentment. Gill starts to hiccough.

"Come on, let's get you home." Julie links arms again, causing Gill to stand straight, and walks her up the street to the rank, where they're lucky enough to get a cab immediately. The roads are quiet by this point, and the drive home is quick. Julie hands a still hiccoughing Gill the key as they get out, and leans in to pay the driver. "Cheers, mate."

"Yeh need to give her a right shock!" is his parting message as he winds the window up.

"Yeah." Julie smiles politely and nods her head.

Gill has managed to get as far as opening the front door, and, with a little care for the ground floor neighbours, Julie guides her up the echoing stairs as quickly as possible. There are times, she thinks, when a third floor flat in an old terraced house is thoroughly annoying, but it does have its benefits as well.

Safely into the flat, she makes for the kitchen area and a pint of water. Gill flops down on the sofa bed and kicks off her shoes.

"Here, drink that down - backwards, if you can."

"What the - HUCK! - fuck do you mean - HUCK! - backwards?"

"Drink from the far side of the glass, like this." Julie takes the glass and demonstrates. "Works for me, anyway." Gill stands, takes the glass back apprehensively, and, bending forward, attempts to do as told. Water cascades over her cheeks and Julie hastily pulls her on to the lino of the kitchen floor. "Here, maybe you'd better do it over the sink..."

Gill obliges, and tries again. This time, with moderately more success. The hiccoughs are gentler and less frequent, anyway. She puts the glass down and leans against the work surface.

"So, what're you going to sing me, Slap?"

"What do you want?"

"'S'up to you, birthday girl."

Julie thinks for a moment, head cocked on one side. "How about The Pretenders' 'Hymn to Her'?" Gill grins and nods emphatically.

Julie straightens her shoulders, steps back 'til she has the table behind her, and, with only a brief pause, launches into the song. At first, she focuses on the corner of the ceiling above Gill's head, but, moving into the second chorus, she drops her eyes to look at Gill, who appears to have been watching her closely, a wide-eyed, almost starry look on her face. Julie holds her gaze as she continues to sing, hardly blinking and only just remembering to breathe in the right places. Underneath her own voice, she can hear Gill faintly humming along, badly out of tune, but as if she cannot resist.

The silence is buttery thick, as the last "same" dies away on Julie's lips; until Gill hiccoughs quietly, and looks down at her feet.

"That was..." She seems a bit lost for words. "...proper good. I could listen to you all day."

"Yeah, well, you won't be saying that when I'm your DI."

"And when I'm your boss, I'll have you sing your reports to me!"

"You'd be better off singing at suspects, they'd sooner confess than listen to you!"

"You're ridiculous. Seriously though." She pauses. "Not that I'm complaining, but why did you ever give it up? Being in a band, I mean?"

Julie glances at her, but Gill has that enquiring look that says she means to know. She considers.

"Well, I always wanted to make a difference. And you don't make a difference by singing in filthy joints five nights a week, getting paid in drink half the time and peanuts the rest. It's hard work for bugger all. I want to work hard, but I also want to see the results of it. Y'know, I want to see the dickhead behind bars. I want to look the victim in the eye and say, with all truth, 'yeah, we did it, we caught him, it was worth you coming forward.' And I want to see change in the way things are done. Justice should actually be just, not merely finding the easiest answer. You know what they're like, Slap. You know how often they don't explore all the options, and the result is either a wrongful conviction or no conviction at all. And I want to change that, just like you. Not to mention I want to see a woman taking on Anderton's job. And the sooner, the better." She lapses into meditative silence, glancing between Gill and the floor.

Gill nods. "Fair enough." She hiccoughs again. "Fuck this!" The outburst sounds strangely irate after their chat. "Can I cadge a smoke? I finished mine earlier. Might stop them."

"Yeah alright, only we'll have to go outside; the landlord's determined the flats are going to be non-smoking."

"What an arse. D'you mean we have to go back downstairs? That would make anyone quit."

"No," Julie laughs. "I mean yeah, that's probably what he envisages, but I've found a way round it. Come on!" She grabs a packet of Benson and Hedges from the counter, pats her pocket to check the lighter is there, and leads the way through to the back room, her bedroom. "All these houses have a kind of knobbly bit out back-" she explains as they go, "-y'know, it's where the bathroom is down in the other flats. But whenever they added in this floor, they didn't continue it, presumably because they built the bathroom into the corner there. So I discovered I can climb out my bedroom window, onto this little roof space, and get a completely private platform to sit on. It's great in summer, on a night like this; not so hot in winter, mind." She grabs a couple of large cushions and a throw from the floor, and, pushing the sash window up one handedly, chucks them on to the roof below. "It's even possible to be quite comfy." She takes her suit jacket off, dislodging her shirttails in the process, and pulls on a tatty cardigan. "Here, d'you want one? You'll swim in it, but the bricks are a bit messy to lean up against." Gill takes the proffered knitwear with a quirkily raised eyebrow. "They were me mam's." Julie responds to the unasked question. "And you can keep your comments to yourself."

Gill shakes her head slightly. "Wasn't going to say anything, Slap."

Julie swings her legs over the windowsill and down on to the surface below with ease, her long legs making nothing of the nearly four foot drop. She turns to help Gill down.

"See? I'll have to give you a boost up to get back in cause you're such a short arse, but it's definitely preferable to traipsing downstairs."

Gill looks around her with interest. "This is well good, Slap. What a bloody view, too!"

"Yeah, and it's completely safe; none of the other houses are this high-" she nods to the small crenelated parapet surrounding the roof "-and those bricks stop anything from falling off."

"And from the houses opposite seeing up, too." Gill, quick-eyed, takes in the ashtray, the pot-plant (half dead), and the couple of forgotten mugs lying around. "Are you ever going to learn to tidy up after yourself?"

"Why the hell should I?" Julie's voice is a little muted as she bends over to arrange the cushions and throw. She sits herself down on one side, pulling Gill's hand 'til she joins her. "It's my flat, my space..."

"Our office..." Gill adds drily.

"Oi, I do make an effort to keep the chaos to my desk. And it's nothing like Alf's."

Gill ignores this and grabs the fags from Julie's hand. She takes a couple out, keeps one for herself and hands the other back, with the packet, hand staying open for the lighter which Julie places in it without looking. There is a pause as Gill lights her cigarette, and then Julie dips her head to catch the spark, and inhales deeply.

In silence, they watch the smoke rise up into the night sky. Very occasionally, Gill hiccoughs softly.

"I think I can see some stars...?"

"Yeah, probably. We're just about far enough out, here. On a good night I sometimes do."

"Don't tell anyone, but the first thing I did when I got my car last year was to drive out to Yeoman Hey reservoir. It was a right cold night, frosty, and I just sat and watched the stars for, oh, it felt like half the night."

Julie nods pensively. "It's right lovely out there. I heard you can see the northern lights sometimes, too."

"Really?" Gills eyes glow. "No, really? God, Slap, if you ever hear that it's at all likely, gimme a shout and we could go out there... I mean, if you want to? I would love to see the aurora borealis."

"Oh listen to you, the 'aurora borealis' indeed! Posh bitch."

"Give over, you daft twat, I mean it."

"Yeah, yeah. I will, if I ever do. Hear about them, I mean."

"Good." Gill nods, puts her fag out and snuggles into Julie a bit. "You're all warm." Something about the way she looks in the half light - maybe it's the turn of her lips in the glow of Julie's own cigarette, reminds her, like a dash of ice water, that not so long ago, Gill was cuddling up to Dave on the dance floor.

"Surprised you're even feeling the cold, the amount you've had." It's a bit of a smart retort, and she can't decide whether she's actually still annoyed about seeing Dave move in on Gill - and how he was welcomed - or whether that upset has caused her to feel even more satisfied than normal that it's her that Gill is turning to. On the one hand, she could just be a convenient fuck. On the other - and Julie reckons she prefers this way of looking at it - she is the one that Gill trusts and wants. Even if she'd never admit it.

"You'll have to warm me up." Gill wriggles some, shifts her head a bit further so that it is resting on Julie's breast, and she's looking up at her, doe-eyed and pouty.

"That sounds dangerously like a bad chat up line."

"Is it working?" Gill smirks, wrapping an arm around Julie's waist, edging a finger underneath her top and stroking the bare skin below. And of course, it is. Julie exhales the last of her cigarette with the slightest groan, and, extinguishing it, cups Gill's head and raises it so that their lips meet. The happy little moan that echoes from inside of Gill sends pleasurable shivers of reassurance down her spine. Never parting, they wriggle downwards, until their heads are on the cushions. Julie has to bend her legs a little to fit in the space, but she hardly notices that. Her arms work their way around Gill's slender body to find the lacing of her corset, which she starts to undo.

"I'll take that as a yes." Gill pulls away from the kiss for a moment, and in the half light of the city sky, Julie sees the grin in her eyes. She leans in to kiss and lick at Gill's neck, working her way up softly to just below the ear. Gill's sigh becomes a whimper as Julie starts to bite and tease at the skin, tenderly at first, becoming fiercer. "Ohhh..." She nuzzles into Julie's cheek.

Finally, the corset laces are loosened enough for Julie to reach up underneath them and run her hands over the encased, untouched skin. Her fingertips tingle with the sensation, and perhaps, in part, the knowledge that this is a part of Gill she alone will know tonight.

"Did I tell you," she whispers, "just how amazing you look?"

But Gill doesn't reply, she is too busy making her way down Julie's neck with her lips. She sucks at her collarbone, before moving lower, towards the tantalisingly cut 'v' of her shirt. Her fingers make short work of the buttons, and before long, her tongue is circling Julie's right breast, sucking and nibbling. Along with the alcohol and nicotine already consumed, the sensation is enough to make Julie feel totally light headed.

Gill's hand gently traces a path down Julie's rib cage and splays across her midriff, causing it to tremor under the touch. She lifts her head momentarily to lock eyes, and grins teasingly. It is time enough for Julie to pull her up level, hungrily meeting her lips. Slowly, she moves her palms down Gill's back, fingers running lightly over her spine, until she reaches the soft material of her skirt. Sliding her upper hand over Gill's hip, Julie unzips it just enough to reach her other hand beneath, to cup her bum, squeezing tight.

"_Fuck_." Gill's voice is hoarse and demanding, and the sheer desire in her throaty tones is enough to drive all other thoughts out of Julie's mind.

"Wish, command..." Her fingers flutter over Gill's hip, and down, smoothly, underneath both skirt and pants. Her palm rests on the jut of Gill's pelvic bone while, with certainty, she stretches the other hand round, far enough to slide a finger up to her clit. Julie can feel the rising breath of Gill's moan on her ear as she softly strokes at her. Before long, she can feel Gill pushing up against her palm, urging her fingers inside. Gill's own hands seem to be everywhere: Julie's back, her bum, scrabbling to get under the waistband of her trousers. Her groans and pants are louder now, and just for a moment, Julie hopes to heaven that none of the neighbours have their windows open. It is a warm night, after all.

But then all considerations are gone as Gill manages to get a hand in between fabric and skin, and presses hard against her. Her own breath is coming loudly now, and she searches out Gill's lips, trying to brush hair out of the way with her nose. Julie feels Gill bucking against her, faster and faster, and their kiss is broken as she arches her head back, gasping. Gill's spare hand is somehow on the back of Julie's neck, fingers reaching up into her hair, pulling on her scalp. Her head comes forward again, nuzzling into Julie's neck as she whimpers with pleasure. Her other hand is still flat on Julie's pelvis, finger crooked motionless inside, but Gill is lost in the heat of the moment, shivering, pressing herself close in to Julie. Watching Gill orgasm is nearly enough to bring her own climax to a head, and if she doesn't quite come, well, she's more inclined to focus on imprinting the wildness of Gill's abandon into her memory. The mental image she's savouring seems to work it's way down from her cortex, through her heart and abdomen, to finish off what Gill started. And although it's not a crashing, earth shattering experience, still Julie trembles into Gill's arms, pulling her tight and sighing against her neck.

Slowly, their rasping breath returns to a quiet peace. Even though Dave is the last thing she wants to think about, Julie feels irrepressibly powerful as she looks down at the brunette head cuddled in close to her. He may have had a kiss on the dance floor, but she is the one who knows what it's like to hold Gill at the height of her ecstasies. He may have copped a feel, but she has erased the touch of his hand with her own fingers. Then she mentally shakes herself. Gill's sure as hell not thinking about Dave, so why on earth should she?

A few minutes later, or is it half an hour, Gill lifts her head just enough to murmur, "Well that certainly cleared the bloody hiccoughs."

"We'll have to remember that for the future." Julie smiles, the soft curve of her lips echoes a tenderness in her expression: a look she carefully masks as Gill glances at her.

"Sex with Julie Dodson, for all your hiccough-curing needs!" She grins blearily.

"Somehow, I don't think it'll catch on."

"Y'never know." Gill is mumbling sleepily. Julie looks at her sharply. Her eyes are glazed, and beginning to close. She recognises something in the way Gill's face moves that tells her the alcohol has finally hit home.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." Gill is strangely pliant as Julie carefully boosts her up and into the flat. Her corset is flapping loose, runkling the back of the baggy old cardigan. She flops on the ready made bed, nearly comatose. Pulling herself up and in - a struggle given how the alcohol seems to be working on her muscles - Julie shakes her head as she closes the window carefully. By the time she turns round, Gill is snoring.

Julie contemplates her unconscious friend. There's no way she's going to be able to sleep all night in that get up, even if she has keeled over for now. She grabs a spare t-shirt and sits down beside Gill; carefully heaves her upright. How the fuck is she supposed to get this off? Cutting her out of it probably isn't an option, she muses. It feels like there's nothing for it but to unlace the whole damn thing. Gill may curse her in the morning, but at least she'll have the breath to do so. Julie sets to, trying to work round the cardigan, for the sake of warmth. Eventually, with triumph, she pulls the dratted thing away from Gill's body. Putting the t-shirt over Gill's head, she slips off the cardigan and bolero from underneath, and pushes the soft fabric down, trying to wangle Gill's arms into the appropriate holes. God, but dressing a comatose body is no fun. Finally, she succeeds, and lowers Gill back down on to the bed. Then, gently, she pulls her up, so her head is resting comfortably on the pillow; manoeuvres her on to her side for safety, and covers her over with the other half of the duvet.

Julie moves through to the kitchen, taking care to be quiet - although by now, a bull in a china shop wouldn't wake Gill. Fills the pint glass, goes over to the table by the sofa bed where she'd left alkaseltzer earlier, and, picking it up, returns to the bedroom. These she places on the bedside table, and then pauses, considering. It can't hurt, she decides, and fetches a bucket from the bathroom. There's nothing else she can do now, she thinks, so she leaves Gill sleeping soundly, and makes her way back to the sofa bed, groaning softly as she divests herself of her trousers and eases herself down on to it. She's left the connecting door open, so if Gill needs her, she should hear. Her head hits the pillow, and Julie, normally an insomniac, is asleep within minutes.


	9. Chapter 9

**Present**

Slowly, their breath returns to normal. Julie traces a pattern on Gill's cheekbones with the back of her fingers, still awed by the fact that this is actually happening. For the first time in their lives, they have had sex with each other completely sober. And apparently not just as a one off.

It isn't as if Julie has pined for Gill. Sure, it was hellish to persuade herself to stop indulging in the semi-frequent one night stands that had been offered her. But her respect for her friend - and for herself - won hands down. That has paid off, too, as they have remained such good mates over the years. Maybe they're not as close as Gill is to Janet, in some ways, but Julie is wise enough to know that Janet offered, and continues to give Gill, a different type of friendship. Almost girlier - Janet was someone Gill could share parenting woes with, who understood the trials of marriage. She is very much one of the girls, without being, as Gill would put it, a wet Sunday sop. Their own friendship has been coarser - freer, in a sense - as simple as breathing and as complicated as living. There have been times when it would be three months between calls, and twice that between nights out; when partners would come and go in between them seeing each other. And yet, Julie could still phone Gill out of the blue with tickets for a gig, and be sure of a delighted, positive response; or Gill could turn up on her doorstep with a bottle, knowing full well she would be welcomed in with open arms.

"What you thinking?" Gill interrupts her reverie. Julie smiles and vaguely shakes her head.

"That it might be time for dinner, hmm? You're getting goose pimples." She rubs up and down on Gill's arms to keep her warm, and engineers them into a sitting position. "Shall I open us that wine?"

Gill shakes her head. "No, that's for later. Got something else inside." She bends over and grabs Julie's trousers, chucking them at her, before reaching to pull her jeans on. She picks Julie's bra up from where it fell, and, standing, looks for her own. It appears to have vanished without trace, so she shrugs, grins, and makes for the kitchen. Julie follows suit, fixing her bra-clasp as she goes. Gill is shaking out the tops that had been discarded on the kitchen floor, and shortly they are dressed again.

"Anything I can do to help?" Julie asks. Gill has returned to the cooker, and Julie feels a bit daft standing there.

"Not really, I just want to bring this up to heat again. The table's laid, ooh, but what you could do... In the fridge, you'll find a bottle, you wouldn't open it would you?"

Julie goes to the fridge. "The white Burgundy or the Champagne?" She turns to Gill, one in each hand, eyebrow raised. The latter is only a half bottle, but it's Moët &amp; Chandon, and not to be sniffed at.

"I think there's more than enough to celebrate, don't you?" Gill queries, eyebrow arched. Julie smiles in response, and puts the wine back. "There's glasses on the dining table." Gill throws the comment over her shoulder, engrossed in putting the meal together.

Julie has just finished pouring the fizz when Gill appears beside her, heavily laden with a casserole which she sets on the table.

"That smells amazing, Slap, what're we having?"

"Chicken and chorizo in a creamy tomato sauce, with pasta... I got it from a recipe book Sammy and Orla gave me."

"So if I get food poisoning, I know who to blame?"

"Ungrateful wretch, casting aspersions before you even taste it. Serve you right if I sent you to bed with no dinner."

"Mm, I can think of ways of making up for a lack of food..." Julie casts her a laughing glance.

"But you might be just as well keeping your energy up? Dig in cock, no standing on ceremony here." Gill hands the serving spoons to Julie and motions to her to help herself, which she does with a will. She takes her seat and waits for Gill to do likewise.

"Well then, a toast to your retirement, Slap! Here's to many more home cooked dinners..."

"...and many more interruptions in the cooking?" asks Gill, smirking.

"Yep, definitely! I'll drink to that."

They clink glasses, and Julie is about to set to the dinner, when Gill adds, "And here's to 'us', as well."

Julie looks up and meets her steady eye, determination written large over her face. She nods, a beam of understanding illumines the knowledge that this is more than just a weekend; that Gill actually means it, and won't drop her on Monday morning.

"Yeah. It's been a long time coming, but here's to us, and this - and to your forward planning."

"'ey, if you think this means I'll be doing your laundry regularly, you can think again, lady. I've had enough of that with Sammy."

"No love, I want to be able to wear my clothes, not have them held hostage until such time as you see fit to give them back." Julie grins and tries a mouthful of the dinner. "Mmm, this is dead good. We'll let you cook again chuck."

"Glad you approve." Gill's tone is light, but Julie notices she doesn't start herself, until hearing the compliment. For a few minutes there is relative silence as they enjoy the food. Then Gill glances over at Julie, paused in enjoying a mouthful, and asks, "So, did anyone say anything when you got in?"

"About this morning? Mmm, no, not really. Karen made a few comments this evening when we were coming out. Christ, I swear that woman is a mind reader. She was all for finding out what your retirement plans were, said something about 'I thought you of all people would know, Julie.'" Gill smirks at Julie's impersonation. "Honestly, she could put Janet out of a job; it's like being interviewed by a tier five who also happens to be an old fashioned school marm." At which Gill snorts. "Laugh all you like, Slap, I swear, if you meet her in town, you'll probably find her asking you about my gardening habits or something."

"Well, I'll give her the truth then, that you wouldn't know a primula from a marigold."

Julie chuckles and feins offence. "Oi, marigolds are the things you wear to wash up."

"Exactly my point. Or perhaps I'll tell her that the only plants you can deal with are cacti."

"Short, prickly and stubborn as hell. Sounds like someone I know."

"Piss off!"

"Tell you what though, Slap, Mary looked rough as hell this afternoon. I'm keeping an eye on that Hardman case that syndicate five has - you know, the triple murder - and I had to go down the mortuary earlier. She looked that green, and was muttering something about never going out with coppers again. It's her own fault, mind. She was the one that was wanting to do shots..."

"You'd think she'd have learnt by now! It's been how many years?"

"Easily twenty. Didn't she move over from Stepping Hill around the time you and that twat got hitched?"

Gill rolls her eyes at the mention of Dave. "Yeah, it must have been about then, because I first met her before giving that course in Bruche. I'll never forget the first time she had me in after a PM, and the glee with which she took me over that body. The man had been poisoned, right, and his innards were liquified. She was so fucking excited it was unreal..."

"...hence the name, I know."

"D'you know, I think she was more jealous than any cop when I got that transfer to the Crime Fac. She used to actually ask me about some of the cases; wanted to compare notes, whenever she met me during those years. Mental."

"Yeah, well, I know someone else who fits in that category."

"Oh, give over. If you'd done that job as long as me, you'd be just the same, you know that."

"I dunno, I like seeing a case through. You know the satisfaction it gives... I miss that these days. Not that I'd give up where I'm at, mind."

"But here it's different. Okay, you get some weird ones, especially you, with being in charge of your cluster of Syndicates. But it's only the local mad twats you get, and it's always the same old faces to work with. Not that there's anything wrong with that...but I liked the variety, as well as coming up against weird shit." Gill pauses. "I mean honestly, some of the cases we worked on wouldn't be believable if they were on some cop drama."

"You could say the same of some of the ones here, though, for better or worse. I'm not sure I'd want to see something like the Bevan case on TV. It would get like that Wire in the Blood, all too grim." Julie shakes her head.

"But life is that grim, Slap, you know that as well as I do. There's a lot of mad bastards out there doing stuff that most people never dream of."

"Yeah, but why would I want to watch it when I deal with it so regularly? I mean, I get that other people want to, but..."

"Well some of them are annoying as fuck, I'll grant you. No procedure worth the name, they never bother to find out how these things really work. But I swear to God, I honestly reckon some people watch those shows to get ideas. Which makes me wonder if it's worth watching them to find out what people are thinking."

"Mmm, I can see your point. Happen you should go on one of those shows as a consultant. I reckon they'd put up with you for about all of one day, before you pissed them off too much with all the things they were doing wrong."

"Oh, give over, as if I'd do summat like that." But Julie spots a glint in her eye and knows the idea has gone home. "Anyway, I've far better plans for my retirement..." She's grinning again now, and underneath the table, Julie can feel Gill's toes rubbing against her ankle. As she finishes the last morsel of food, she reclines back into the chair, and stretches her long legs out a bit further. Gill glances over, eyes half hidden under long lashes and a broad smirk curving her lips.

"So are these the plans you're going to share with Karen when you see her?"

"Like taking her Detective Superintendent to bed and fucking her brains out? I'm not sure the Assistant Chief Con would appreciate knowing that kind of detail about her fellow officer..."

"Hmm, maybe not. Is that your subtle way of saying there's no pudding?"

"Could you really eat a dessert after that?"

"Of course I could, you knob."

"Well, since you ask so nicely...I think there's ice cream in the freezer, if Sammy hasn't gorged the lot of it." Gill glances at the empty bottle. "How about you go open that bottle by the fire, and I'll bring it in there? You know there's glasses in the cabinet."

"We'll get table cleared first, eh?" Julie stands and gathers their dishes. "That really was a cracking meal, Gill."

"A step up from the take aways and the microwave meals you're used to, I know." Gill follows her through to the kitchen with the casserole. "Now, leave this to me..."

"...Yeah, I will and all, I know what you're like about the dishwasher. Bloody OCD."

"No, I just like it done properly."

Julie snorts, rolls her shoulders and disappears through to the sitting room, quietly muttering. "Same difference."

The wine is poured and Julie curled up on the sofa before Gill arrives in with two bowls.

"I found some fancy crumble thing as well, so you've got that and forest fruits ice cream, the only one Sammy hadn't hogged before he moved. I really must get round to stocking up on that kind of thing, if I'm going to be feeding you more often..." She winks as Julie looks up at her, grinning.

"Lovely." Julie leans forward to exchange the bowl for one of the glasses of wine, and smiles as Gill eases herself down on to the other end of the sofa, hitching her legs up under her. "And yeah, ice cream is part of a staple diet... At least Sammy and I have on thing in common!"

The pudding is pleasant, but quickly finished, and Julie spends a minute or two contemplating her drink before taking the plunge on something she needs to know. "So why now? I mean, I get what you said last night about retirement and everything. But why me, now? Why not when you left the tosser, or sometime since?"

Gill looks up from her bowl, looking surprised. "I'd have thought it was obvious, Slap?"

"Not to me it ain't." Julie shakes her head, opening her eyes wide, and staring back at Gill, who, after a moment, looks away.

"Oh! Well." She uncurls her legs and sits more formally. "At first, well. I was... Well, I guess you didn't see so much of it, I couldn't let you... But I was a mess. You know, to face up to the reality of it. And then. Well, then I suppose I...didn't want Dave thinking I was leaving him for you. And he would have done, even if it had been...ages. You know. He's enough of an unbearable pillock as it is, and even though he had the whore, he'd have still assumed it had nothing to do with his behaviour, if there'd been anyone else on my part, even after. And if that someone else was you... Later, well...I remembered what you said on my hen night, and I suppose I thought you were still pissed off with me, as far as that went."

"What on earth...why the hell did you think I was pissed off with you? I mean, what had I done to give you that idea?" Julie's wonders if she looks as baffled as she feels.

"Oh, I don't mean day to day, as friends… I knew we were fine, more than fine, in that sense. But-" she lifts a hand "-and I suppose my memory of that night is hazy at best, but...I got the feeling you thought I'd been taking advantage of you all those times before." Gill eyes her feet, before taking a deep breath and saying very quickly, "and, y'know, thinking back, I can see why you'd think that. Why you'd think I was a manipulative little bitch, just getting you into bed when I wanted, and never thinking about you and what you wanted except that you always seemed to enjoy it, but honestly Slap, it never even occurred to me... You were just so bloody irresistible." She pauses, mouth slightly open, clearly debating whether to say any more. Julie stares at her. "Genuinely, I am sorry. I never meant it that way at all. I just didn't think, or at least, all I thought was how good you were, and how enjoyable it was, and..."

"Yes?"

"Well, how no one else knew me like you did. That's why you were different."

Julie slowly begins to nod, then changes to shaking her head.

"Christ, you're a mad cow, Gill Murray, has anyone ever told you that? Did it never occur to you, in all those years since, that if I'd felt the slightest bit manipulated, I'd have been out of it like a shot? The luxury of you was you didn't expect it to be anything other than what it was, which was just fine by me, back then. I had no more wish of," she rolls her eyes and over-pronounces the words, _settling down_, than you did, until him. But I was sure as hell not going to be the reason your marriage broke up. Nor was I prepared to be the second best option." There is just the slightest hint of a query as she says this, and she eyes Gill firmly.

Gill takes the bait. "And you're not now. Like I said, the whole Helen thing..." She shudders, and involuntarily takes a large mouthful of wine. "It made me realise that life is now or never. At first I had a good reason, or good enough at any rate, because of Dave. Then I told myself you didn't want that, any of it. And then, even when I realised that I was just telling myself that, well, it just never seemed to be the right time. I had a big case on, you got promoted, we were working together... Of course, it's such bullshit. There's never the right time or not-the-right time, not really. Not when you...when I...have held off for so long." She glances up at Julie, then meets her gaze steadily. "You're not the second best option, Julie. I mean it. You never were, and you certainly aren't now." She reaches out a hand across the sofa.

Julie nods again, slowly, but with comprehension. She takes the proffered hand, lightly at first, stroking the skin with her thumb.

"In fairness, it took me 'til you really and truly settled down to realise that maybe, actually, I might have wanted that, too. Please don't be thinking I spent all those years letting you take me to bed and then crying over you for days afterwards, because I can assure you, I did anything but."

"Well, that's my bubble burst!" Gill smirks, as Julie continues.

"I might have thought I was mad now and again, but I enjoyed those nights for what they were just as much as you did. I suppose it was only when you got engaged that I started to cotton on. And then, of course, I just had to let go. I did wonder, though, after Dave... But I didn't want to push."

Gill nods, taking another sip of wine. When she puts it down, Julie gently pulls her, by the hand she's still holding, towards herself, and Gill willingly obliges, somewhat sprawlingly, looking relieved that the time for serious conversation has passed. Her head rests on Julie's chest, one arm thrown loosely over her waist.

"I can hear your heartbeat." Gill murmurs, stroking her midriff through the soft material of the shirt. Julie smiles, even though she knows it is unseen, and slides her hand down to Gill's hip.

"How about we head upstairs, hmm? Given it was such a late one last night, I'm sure it'd do no harm..." The words may be innocent, but her tone is rich with suggestion, and Gill twists her head round to lock twinkling eyes, before assenting. Julie pushes her upright. "Anything to get you moved, Slap, you've got a bloody hard skull. Ow!" She rubs the area where Gill's head had dug in when she moved.

"Will you let me rub it better?" Gill winks, her smile deep and suggestive.

"Oh, I reckon I could find various aches and pains that need taking care of, if you're offering... " She stands and and grabs Gill by the hand. "Come on."

It is so different to last night...well, this morning, Julie thinks, as she leads the way to the stairs. It has been a long time since her world turned this level of upside down in only a few short hours; she'd forgotten what it's like. Now Gill is steady on her feet, eyes clear and shining, thoroughly present to the moment. Even for herself, she can observe the situation with clarity rather than the hazy uncertainty of earlier. Gill catches her up at the foot of the stairs, winding her free hand around Julie's waist, crooking a finger under the hastily tucked in shirt. The delicate touch of a fingertip to her hip is enough to make Julie draw in her breath sharply. She swings round, quick enough to startle Gill, before lowering her head to kiss her open mouth. They press into one another, but Julie, having size on her side, is stronger, and has Gill up against the wall with ease, hands frantically touching her wherever she can.

After a few minutes - or is it half an hour? - she feels Gill's mouth break away from the kiss, and pause, her hands lightly on Julie's hips. Looking down, she finds Gill's green eyes searching her face in wonder, a delicate smile playing on her perfectly bowed lips. Julie meets the gaze quizzically, eyebrow raised.

"What's up?"

"Nothing... I just wanted to...remember this." Gill lifts a hand to delicately smooth away the hair falling over Julie's cheek. "Come on." This time it is her who takes the lead, firmly grasping Julie by the hand, though she meets no resistance when the starts up the stairs.

Seventeen steps, Julie counts; and whether to tease, or simply due to shortness of leg, Gill walks on every single bloody one of them. It makes the trip upstairs seem tantalisingly long, just as if she were taking off one garment at a time. The idea makes her grin, and Julie makes a mental note that one day, that is something she'd like to experience. Finally, they make it through the bedroom door and across the short space to the bed.

"I see you've had the heating on..."

"Yeah, well, only..." But whatever Gill might have said is lost into a moan, as Julie slides one hand up inside her top, fingers brushing against her perfectly shaped breast. She retaliates by grasping Julie's bum and pulling her closer, 'til their bodies meet in a medley of satin and knit, wool and denim. It makes it difficult for Julie's other hand to get at the zip of Gill's jeans, and, as their lips meet and tongues move with each other, she gives up and pushes the trousers down, taking the knickers with them. Now she smooths her hand around Gill's thigh and back to her buttock, cupping underneath it, and nudges gently, with a twist of her hips, until Gill falls back on the bed behind her. Her hands trail down the back of Gill's leg until they meet the rumpled jeans. Grasping them, she pulls and steps backwards.

Julie stands back and surveys the vision in front of her. Gill, still in her knit jumper but otherwise naked, sits with her legs reached out in front and her hands on the edge of the bed, grasping it as if she might just fall over. She looks up at Julie from under deeply lidded eyes, and if ever a face said 'come hither', it is hers. For a moment, Julie bites her bottom lip, so taken in with what, with who she is looking at.

Gill raises an eyebrow. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"You look like you're debating what to do with an insubordinate officer."

Julie laughs, almost a bark, but she takes in the glint in Gill's eyes. "If you're insinuating what I think you are, that would be counted as harassment, as well you know... Or is retirement dulling your mind already?"

"Y'can harrass me anytime, Slap..." Gill's tone is positively arch, but Julie can't resist.

"Is that so...?" She advances a step nearer. "And what would constitute harassment, then? Hmm?" Gill starts to squirm at the closeness of her, fully dressed and looming. "Hmm, do you like that? We could work with that..." Julie tilts her head, eyeing her as if in a new light. Gill nods, shakily but determined. "Okay... Well, in that case, love, I think you're a little overdressed, don't you? Why don't you take that off?" She indicates the remaining clothing. Gill whines, just slightly, as she slowly pulls the jumper and top off, chucking them to one side. Then she meets Julie's eyes with an insolent look.

For the sheer pleasure of teasing, Julie takes a step back, puts her hands on her hips, and forces her face to be impassive - difficult, considering the exquisite sight in front of her. She looks down to Gill's feet, twisted in 'til the toes touch, and slowly - achingly slowly - moves her glance up. She takes it all in: every vein pulsing; the sharp angles of Gill's metatarsals; the mole on her right leg, just two inches above her jutting ankle bone; the way her calves shape smoothly up to behind her knee, muscles twitching. Her knees sit together, skin drawn taught across them and back along her thighs. When her gaze reaches the dark hair between Gill's legs, it is all she can do not to whimper. Instead, she makes herself consider the sight even more painstakingly, taking in the way her hair curls, and how there are a few lighter, almost red hairs, nestled amongst the dark brown. Inadvertently, she licks her lips, and now it is Gill who moans. Julie moves her study upwards, over Gill's pointed hip bones; across her small belly and the strikingly pink-white scar from her c-section; on to the mole that edges its way out of her belly button; to where her rib cage sits, skin taut. She could play those ribs, with fingers splayed until she made Gill sing, and her hands twitch at the thought. Still further up, and she focuses on those beautiful pert breasts, the aureoles dark on otherwise ivory skin. Her leg itches to step forward, to let her smooth her hands over the heartbeat she can see visible underneath Gill's soft flesh, to take each nipple between her lips and teeth in turn.

As if she can read Julie's mind, Gill moans again, a strangled 'please' just audible.

"Patience, love." It's all Julie can do to get the words out without shaking. She fixes her gaze on to Gill's collarbone, and the way her skin covers it, causing those beautiful dips, where her tongue could linger. Then, her neck, and again, she can see her pulse; it seems faster now. Up, and to Gill's lips, slightly parted, breath coming ragged; her cheeks are flushed. Finally, she looks into her eyes, almost melting on the spot. Without breaking her gaze, she folds her arms and directs: "Now, why don't you put those lovely legs up on the bed, hmm?"

Gill blinks once, and nods again.

Once this is accomplished (and it takes a little longer than normal, Gill seems to be having a bit of of trouble commanding the use of her her muscles), Julie moves to the foot of the bed. From her lying down position, Gill eyes her, silently begging. Julie steps forward, so that her fingers can just whisper across Gill's ankle bones and feet, before dipping one knee on to the bed between them. Then, as her hands lingeringly move up smooth-skinned legs, she drops the other knee, so that she's kneeling, head level with Gill's thighs. She pauses, and glances up at Gill, who reaches a hand out toward her head, fingers grasping.

"Ah-ah!" Julie shakes her head, and, removing one hand from Gill's hip, very gently pushes the grasping hand away and down. "All in good time."

Gill shivers with anticipation, and Julie watches the tremor run its course along her midriff. This is a new departure for them - not for her, of course - but she has never tasted Gill before, not like this. Even at this distance, she can smell her, and the urge to lower her mouth straight onto Gill's cunt is almost overwhelming. Somehow, in their drunken fuckbuddy days, this had never seemed quite right, as if it were too intimate, perhaps? But now... Gill's hand twitches underneath her grasp.

"I've a good mind to make you wait some more, teach you some patience, love." Julie's voice is low and throaty. "But..." She can't resist any further, and brings her lips down on to the jut of Gill's pelvis, softly kissing, then licking, the smooth skin there. She trails her tongue down the opened crease of skin, 'til her nose is tickled by curly hairs. As she moves across an inch and dips her tongue into that waiting heat, Gill lets out a strangled cry, and, deep in her cunt, Julie grins, and softly nips at her clit.

Gill tastes salty and strong, and the smell envelopes Julie's senses, as she steadies into a rhythm of licking, feeling Gill's wrist tremble underneath her grip. She lifts her head just slightly to slip a finger in, pressing in deep, and hears a loud groan in response. Keeping the finger in place, edging in and out, Julie lowers her tongue back down, licking firmly back and forth over Gill's clit. She can feel her arching and bucking, realises, in the heat of it, that her head is held so firmly between Gill's thighs that she can only vaguely hear the cries emanating from above. She's writhing now, and Julie is licking and sucking, faster and faster, as Gill comes, gasping and flailing, into her waiting mouth. Slipping her finger out, Julie dips her mouth in again, and feels Gill's body slow, trembling. Languidly, she trails her tongue over Gill's clit, causing a powerful jerk in response. She lifts her head just enough to rise up and kiss Gill's pelvic bone, before looking up.

Gill looks wild and blissful, hair everywhere, eyes wide and lips parted, panting.

Bit by bit, Julie works her way up Gill's body, using what feels like the last of her strength to stay just that little bit apart, looming over her. She can feel the heat coming off her in waves, and ignores the impatient twist of Gill's hips as she tries to close the gap between them. Over her breasts, Julie pauses, and dips her lips to suck and bite that tempting nipple, causing a racking little gasp in her ear as Gill curls up against her. She traces her tongue along the collarbone, into those dips, and up, slowly, along Gill's neck, to underneath her ear, where she nips the very bottom of her lobe. Finally, she moves across, 'til her mouth is only an inch over Gill's own. They are both panting and sighing.

"Suitably harassed?" She can barely get the words out, and Gill responds with a throaty chuckle.

"Wish I'd known about your methods before now, Slap, I might have behaved less than perfectly." Gill grins impishly before jerking her head up to meet Julie's lips, still slick. And it is that kiss that is Julie's undoing; she falls softly onto Gill, her clothing damp with sweat, rubbing against smooth, trembling skin. Lips brush against her ear, and Gill whispers "I think you might be a little overdressed, though," before her hands move down to loosen the rest of Julie's satin shirt from her waistband.

It is blissful to feel those small hands work their way up beneath the satin, sliding up her back, then round, pushing her up a bit, so Gill can spread her fingers over Julie's lace cupped breasts.

"Shall we get this top off, eh?" Gill doesn't wait for a response, but edges her hands up till Julie lifts her arms, and Gill can push the shirt over her head. The damp satin sticks slightly. Then, with little care for the bra, Gill unhooks it from behind. "Don't know why you bothered putting that back on!" She grins.

"Appearances..." Julie manages to murmur, through the pleasure of Gill's hands on her breasts. "Ohhhh..."

Gill smirks, before moving her hands down to Julie's belt, deftly unfastening it and working at the buttons on her trousers. These, along with the knickers, she tries to push down, but it is only when Julie lends a hand that this is successful. In ridding herself of the trousers, Julie ends up kneeling again, and when she tries to lie back down again, Gill holds her off.

"I think I've got you just where I want you, actually..." She hitches herself up on the pillows, and casts vixen eyes up at Julie. "Just...come a little closer."

Comprehending, and, if she admits it to herself, slightly nervous, Julie shifts up the bed, her knees edging over Gill's shoulders. She seems so small and frail when seen from this vantage point, even more so than from any other. It was one thing to lick Gill out, herself, after so many years, and so many times of having made her come with just her fingers, but this is even more significant. Slowly, timidly even, Gill parts her lips and lifts her tongue toward Julie's clit, and the realisation that this is something Gill has never done before - to anyone - almost makes Julie come there and then, before Gill has even reached her cunt. And then, exquisitely, she feels her, the tentative tip of Gill's tongue sliding over her clit, and even that small movement causes her to shudder, her hands bracing against the wall.

The uncertainty of Gill's touch is so strange to experience; there is a delicacy that Julie just would not associate with her at all, and she realises that Gill needs reassurance in what she's doing. She drops a hand to Gill's ear, erratically tracing a pattern on the skin there.

"Please," she murmurs, and is heartened to feel Gill continue to lick, applying slightly more pressure. She moves with Gill's tongue, building up speed, and Gill takes the hint, hands clutching at Julie's buttocks, pushing herself deeper in. Once, Julie is certain she feels the nub of Gill's nose rub against her clit, and something about how messy and unknown this is - for both of them, really - fills her with joy. And then, she can feel the orgasm rising within her, pulsing and growing, and she's pushing on to Gill's face, crying out as it feels so perfect, that Gill's pointy little tongue licking her out, faster, and faster yet; and she's coming, fiercely, roughly, moaning and shaking, hands grasping the pine bed head, trying desperately to hold herself up.

Slowly, Gill pushes herself up through Julie's hips, until her face is level with her rib cage. Softly, she kisses the bottom of her sternum, rubbing her moist cheeks against Julie's sweat-damp skin, and glances up at her, grinning.

"How did I do?"

Julie gasps, and shakes her head, unable yet to speak coherently. Shakily, she wriggles back a little, until it is safe to flop down beside Gill, arm thrown loosely over her, stroking her shoulder. She nuzzles into the side of Gill's breast. Finally, huskily, she answers,

"Seems like you're quite the quick study, though, I'd be happy to give you some more practice...and lessons!" She glances up to see the smirk spread across Gill's lips.

"That sounds like a plan to me."


	10. Chapter 10

**1991, Gill's Hen Night**

"Right lads, I'm off. DS Pallister's on call duty for the weekend, so I'll see you all on Monday." Julie casts a determined grin round her team.

"See you then, Sarge." DC Jack Thomas looks up from his desk. "Have a good one!" Julie smiles and nods, before striding out of the office, looking every inch the Detective Sergeant. Six months in the post, and she has just about got used to the team in Duke Street nick. Whether or not the men are entirely used to her, or to having a woman as their superior, is another matter, but Julie has always had that touch of being 'one of the lads', and at least to her face, they seem to have accepted her. Keeping the balance of friendliness and professionalism has been tricky enough, but certainly her experience of Frankie has given her a very clear idea of the kind of DS she does not want to be, which is a good start. It has been a blessing, too, to be able to catch up with Gill every couple of weeks and compare notes. Having both passed the board the previous autumn, it was inevitable that they'd end up in different locations. While Julie has to admit she is a tad envious of Gill's posting to Bradford Park and Serious Crimes, she doesn't begrudge her friend - it's one hell of an opportunity for a newly made sergeant, and speaks volumes of her reputation.

She nods at the other officers as she walks through the building, taking particular care to cast a smile at the probationary WPCs who eye her with a mixture of awe and curiosity. It's not surprising, really. Not only is she the first woman to be made sergeant here, but she knows rightly that rumours are rife about her sexuality. The thought makes her smirk. At least the gossip mill can't be speculating on who she fucked to get her post. And with the Chief Con's imminent retirement - not to mention the formation of the Lesbian and Gay Police Association - she has felt a little safer in not being quite so straight passing as in the past. It's amazing, she thinks, as she waves a cleaner through the door in front of her, how a little bit of leeway lightens the load so considerably. And the bond of others, bringing rising hope for more change, has somehow re-energised her, too.

She waves at the lad on the front desk and walks out into the fresh afternoon air. Just gone three-thirty. It'll be four before she gets home, and half past before she gets turned round and on the road again. Why on earth Gill chose to have her hen night in Lytham St Annes, she just cannot fathom, especially when, if they're going to travel all that distance, Blackpool is only a few miles further up the road. But Gill wouldn't budge, and just because Julie is her bridesmaid doesn't mean she's going to take on a battle she can't win. Thankfully, all she has to do is turn up, Gill having allowed to her to wriggle out of the duty of organising the hen night, due to work. At least, that was the excuse she gave.

If she is honest with herself, Julie thinks, as she unlocks the car door, it still floors her slightly that this is actually happening. In two weeks time, Gill Prescott will be Gill Murray. A grimace passes across her face, and, even though she is alone, she forces it to a more neutral look. She is utterly determined not to let on to Gill exactly what she thinks, or feels, about the impending marriage. It was difficult enough to realise that she had an emotional response to it all, harder yet to deal with her feelings all by herself, let alone how awkward it would make their friendship if Gill had even the faintest idea. Which she doesn't, Julie is sure of that. One thing about Gill is that she really doesn't have a clue how other people feel about her, and most of the time, cares even less. There are negative sides to that as well, but right now, it's pretty useful.

In truth, Julie had only just about got her head around the notion that Gill and Dave were dating steadily. It sort of snuck up on all of them, really. First there had been her thirtieth birthday. Then, maybe a few months later, something similar on a night out. A while after that, Gill had mentioned a date, and then another. But at Dave's own thirtieth, held in his home, Julie had taken great pleasure in first beating him roundly at Pool, on his own table, and then by responding cheerfully, drunkenly, to Gill's determined flirting in the little hours of the morning, and bringing her to a wild climax on that very same table. She didn't exactly think of it as revenge, at the time, but the deep sense of glorying satisfaction it had given her had lasted for quite a while, until she realised, one day, as if struck by lightning, that Gill was actually falling for the bollocks.

It had been a unpleasant revelation; not only that her great friend had clearly had a nasty hit to the head, but, more tellingly, that her own horrified response meant that she actually cared who Gill loved a whole lot more than she'd ever let on. Especially when it wasn't her.

She'd gone through three girlfriends in quick succession at that point. Looking back, Julie can see that her usual balance of not wanting to be tied down, whilst enjoying good sex, had been really thrown off-kilter by the realisation that actually, she wouldn't mind being tied down by Gill - in more ways than one - and that in point of fact, good sex did not actually make up for the lack of intimate contact. Not that she'd had that with Gill, exactly, but somewhere, deep in her subconscious, the idea of it had been forming. However, with her usual steely determination, she had clawed herself out of the position of unknowingly jilted friend-come-lover and set to making the best of it. So what if Gill's cosiness with Dave had made her realise she would like a more intimate relationship? That she could have, and promptly did, with great enjoyment for the newness of the sensation. She and Kath had finally broken up a month or so back, but on good terms considering it had been over two years of their lives. She wasn't pining over anyone, least of all Gill.

But it was still odd to know that in two weeks she would precede her friend down the aisle, then turn and look to see her dressed in white, on her father's arm, glowing, and with eyes only for Dave Murray.

Julie shakes her head and starts the car. Enough maudlin stupidity. Tonight will be fun, even if it is somewhere as posh as the Grand Hotel in Lytham St Annes. Providing Gill doesn't want them all to play golf the next day, it'll be fine. Come to think of it, she's not even sure if Gill plays, but it's all she knows about the area.

oOo

It is nearly seven when Julie pulls up outside the hotel, in the beginnings of a glorious pink and gold sunset. The sea dances with colour, white horses made pearly iridescent in the evening light. She hoiks her bag in, only noticing the porter afterwards and feeling a bit uncultured. The concierge books her in, hands her the keys and, to her further embarrassment, announces that she'll be shown to her room shortly. Before she can argue that there's really no need, a few directions will suffice, Gill comes bouncing across the atrium to her, full of glee.

"Finally! You took your time, Slap! The others are all here ages ago."

"Yeah, well, some of us couldn't leave work any earlier... You got the day off, I take it?"

Gill winks. "I might have whispered some nice things to the DI... Mind you, I promised to go in on Sunday instead, so... But hopefully nothing wildly exciting'll happen before then. Anyway, you good? What room are you?" Julie glances at her keyring.

"Thirty-five. You?"

"Ace, I'm in thirty-four. We've got a cracking good view of the sea. Did I tell you we always used to come here when I was a kid? Management's changed since, but I've such good memories of the place..." She breaks off to grin at the amiable looking porter who is approaching. "Come on, let's get you settled in, and then it's dinner time!" She hooks an arm through Julie's, then appears to notice her slight discomfort. "What?" Julie twitches her head in the slightest protest of 'not now'.

Gill prattles - there's no other word for it - wedding talk the whole way up the broad staircase, and along the corridor, 'til the porter opens Julie's door for them and respectfully steps back. Once inside the room, she looks again at Julie.

"What is it? Don't you like it here? Is everything okay?" She actually looks worried at the thought, and to avoid the sight, Julie shakes her head, feeling rather daft, and lifts her bag from where it was put down, onto the broad dressing table. Then, feeling all the more foolish for turning her back on Gill, faces her and answers, all of a hurry,

"Nothing. It's just...well...I've never actually been somewhere like this. I mean, as smart as this. I'm not used to someone taking my bag for me, y'know? It just...takes a bit of getting used to."

"Oh! You'll get used to it." The words slide out easily, and Julie smiles, but inwardly shakes her head. Just now and again, there are some things Gill really doesn't get.

"Yeah, well. You still want us all in white? I was reckoning on wearing that suit again, would that be okay?"

"Viv owes me a fiver then! 'Course it's alright, Slap, that suit's half of why I thought of it. That and if I'm going to look a twat in virginal white, the rest of you can bloody well join me."

Julie laughs, and then picks up, "What d'you mean, Viv owes you a fiver?"

"Well, we had a bet, didn't we? She swore you'd wear a dress for the occasion. I knew damn rightly you wouldn't. You'd be wearing a suit to the wedding if you thought I'd let you get away with it!"

"Yeah, and I reckon you'd even think about letting me, if it weren't for your mother..."

"I don't fancy trying to pull that one off. Her face when I said you were the only bridesmaid was bad enough! Though I think she's come round since we went dress shopping..."

"I thought she was a bit nicer to me, right enough. I take it she's not with us tonight?"

"Good God, woman, who d'you take me for? No, it's just you, me, Viv, Titch, Sal, Nancy and Jackie."

"Still cracks me up that you, of all people, named someone Titch."

"Well, she makes me look normal, and you're a giant by comparison..." Gill giggles. "Anyway, will I leave you to it? You'll find your way down alright. We're in the restaurant for the meal, it's to the right of the stairs when you come down."

"Don't worry, I'll just follow the sound of drunken cackling..." Julie winks ostentatiously and Gill laughs some more as she walks out.

oOo

By the end of the meal, Julie is wondering how the staff can put up with them - not to mention the other guests, some of whom she has caught staring. It baffles her, just how loud a bunch of women can get, given enough excitement and fizzy wine. And how high pitched - Titch is positively shrieking with laughter, a sound far too loud to be coming from such a tiny person. However, in a brief moment of silence, a member of staff calls for the attention of all the patrons.

"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening, and welcome, once more, to the Grand Hotel. I'd just like to remind you that tonight's special guests will be performing shortly over in the St Anne's Suite. It is a great honour to have them back with us, after so long...fresh from touring in Japan, our very own Nolan Sisters!"

Groaning to herself amidst the clamour, Julie glances over to Gill, opposite her, prepared to share a moment of eye-rolling for the excitement over such saccharine pop music, only to find she is cheering as loudly as anyone else in the room. Unnoticed, Julie dips her head into her hands, moans quietly, then pulls herself together. It is, after all, Gill's night, and anyway, at least things can't get worse than the Nolan Sisters.

It's not that she doesn't respect them - she does, knowing exactly how hard the life of a touring band is, even one that, in the past, was as successful as them. Nor does she begrudge them the success that they had, when they had it, even if they are cloyingly cheerful and the antithesis of her kind of music. No, she thinks, as Gill leads them across the reception to the showroom suite, it's the fact that their bloody songs get into her brain, bleed glitter all over it, and don't leave again for at least a week. And it's a bit embarrassing to be found humming 'I'm in the mood for dancing' whilst writing up a report on a dealer with links to gangland crime. Of course, that would be their opening song. Gill pulls her and Titch on to the floor, and the rest of the group follow closely behind, and with one last, longing thought for her sanity, Julie gives in and mirrors the grins of the others.

It's not so hard, really, after a few more drinks, to enjoy the musical equivalent of rainbow sherbert that the four sisters' music brings to the room. It turns out the most of the girls know the words to quite a few songs, and they get a good banter going back and forth between the floor and the stage. Someone - Julie thinks it might have been Jackie - passes a note and a small package up to them, and the next thing Bernie Nolan is pulling Gill up on stage, presenting her with a fake tiara and 'L' plates, and dedicating 'Chemistry' to her. By the time she gets back to the dance floor, her cheeks are scarlet, and all Julie can do is laugh.

"Surprised they didn't get you to do the dance routine with them, love!"

"Don't give them ideas!" Gill shrieks and gives her a whack on the arm. "I mean it, Slap!" She adds, as Julie, eyes twinkling, makes as if to suggest it to the other girls. "There is no way on earth that I am doing that. And if you do, I'll…"

"What, cuff me? Don't think so..."

"No! But I will tell them to get you up there to do a cover." And by the steely determination in Gill's jaw, Julie knows she would and all.

"Oh, bugger." She heaves a sigh of regret. "Alright. I won't."

"Good! Anyway, isn't it time we were moving on...?"

Julie brightens considerably at the suggestion. "Where're we going?"

"Titch has summat planned, she didn't let on totally what it was..." Gill grabs her tiny blonde friend. "Oi, Titch, is it time we were heading yet?" Titch gives a vigorous nod in response. "Right, you lot!" Gill corrals her friends off the dance floor, as Julie feels a surge of relief at such an early escape.

"So, where're we going?" She asks again, this time directing the question at Titch, who grins.

"Well, not wanting to give anything away just yet, but we're going to get a couple of taxis into Blackpool, to the Winter Gardens..."

"Oh, cool!" Julie nods. "I used to love the funfair there when I was a kid..."

"Fun of a different kind tonight!" Titch nudges her in the waist, winking and grinning broadly. Julie feigns being in on the joke, and falls back to chat with Viv and Jackie.

oOo

Fun. Julie's face when they're ushered in to the Winter Gardens' Stardust nightclub is one of momentary abject horror. Titch's idea of fun is a Chippendales tribute act, with extra added foam. Male strippers and a foam party. It's like a bad memory of some of the clubs she slipped in to as a teen, on Canal Street.

She can't help but turn to Gill and hiss: "What is… Tell me you knew nothing about this, Slap?" And is gratified to see the honest shock on her friend's face. It strikes her as slightly funny that Gill, previously so free when it came to dating, is actually a bit flummoxed by the thought of going to a strip show. Makes her feel just a bit less of a square peg in a round hole. But then Sal comes over with a fresh round of drinks, and Gill brushes off her uncertainty with a roaring laugh, a slap to Titch's head and a threat of some unspecified revenge. Julie downs her double with haste. This is beginning to be the night she doesn't want to remember.

At least the bar remains open when the strip act comes on stage. That is the only mercy to be found in a room full of screaming women and half-naked men. One glance is enough to tell her that this really is her worst nightmare. Inadvertently, she shakes her head in horror, hand to her brow, and shudders. Never again will she agree to going to a hen party. Not if this is what one gets subjected to. Corny and crass, and - she dares a glimpse - oily... Worse, one of them even looks like Dave Murray. If he were naked down to the waist and covered in grease. The thought makes her retch. She dares a look at Gill, and notes that rather smug smirk she tends to wear when just slightly uncomfortable but not wanting to show it. Then the foam starts.

In another context she might actually enjoy the side effect of this. There are a number of attractive women in the club - not least Gill - all of whom now have somewhat damp, skimpy clothes clinging to their figures. The material of her own suit is quite thick, but even it is beginning to get a little bit translucent. Gill's light top, underneath the bridal L plate, is positively see-through to her delicate lace bra. As if she can sense Julie looking at her, Gill half turns, and bats a fluffy lump of bubbles up at her, laughing impishly as she dodges it. Julie returns the act with interest, and they become too engaged in their personal foam fight to notice that two of the performers have come down amongst the crowd.

The first Julie knows about it is when a tanned stripper, dressed in some interpretation of police uniform, comes between them and gives them a mock telling off. The entire club turns to stare. Before she can work out where to put her eyes, or even realise exactly what is going on, he's attaching pink fluffy handcuffs to their wrists, and then her to himself and Gill to another lad - the one who, as fate would have it, looks a lot like a deep-fried Dave. Julie glances over at Gill in utter horror, and finds her friend shrieking with mirth, albeit with crimson tinted cheeks. There's no sympathy to be had from the rest of the group, either, who appear to find this all hysterical.

If ever Julie has wished that the ground would open and swallow her whole, it is this moment. They are led forward, through the foam and the envious jeers of the rest of the audience, onto the stage. There they are met by the rest of the troupe, all in these daft risqué cop outfits, all bearing determinedly phallic batons. She hears another loud cry from the crowd, and, out of the corner of her eye realises that two other performers have gone hunting for more victims. Sadly, when they too are brought up, it becomes clear that she is the only one who wishes herself anywhere but. Gill is convulsed with laughter and even beginning to play along a bit with one of her captors.

Her sheer unease must be apparent to the stripper assigned to her, as he, while running through the sexed up routine of booking her in - which somehow involves him removing most of his clothes - whispers to her, "Sorry, love, didn't realise you weren't up for it."

"Why the hell did you pick me?" She hisses back between gritted teeth.

"Got a message through to get the bride to be and the tall one... That is you, right?" He has the care to sound half-concerned.

"Christ, I am going to kill Titch!" But against the fury that rises in her, Julie realises that of course, Gill's friend from school would have absolutely no idea that this is the utter opposite of pleasurable for her. Why would she? Gill's not exactly likely to have told her that they used to get drunk and fuck each other. Without her realising, some of this must show on Julie's face, because the next thing she knows, as the man leans down to roll his baton suggestively up her leg, he whispers archly,

"Don't worry darlin', you're really not my type, if you get my meaning... Just like I'm not yours." Her eyes widen, and for the first time she meets his glance, and sees warm, friendly brown eyes staring back apologetically - rather like a puppy dog.

She gives the slightest nod, and mutters back, "Just get me back down there as fast as you can, please."  
He acknowledges her plea with a smile, and coyly announces to the audience, "We've got nothing on this one, can't keep her without evidence." And with a dramatic unlocking of her cuff, he assists her off the stage and into the blissful semi-anonymity of the dance floor.

She makes straight for the bar. Two whiskeys later, she rejoins Gill's other friends, and is able to give a credible performance of laughing and cheering when Gill is finally set free. It's not that she felt at all threatened, or in any sort of danger, whilst being singled out by the troupe. She knows that it's all an act, and that there are boundaries in place to protect the performers as much as the participants, but she would never have willingly chosen the experience at any time, and she is pissed off that Titch volunteered her for it without even asking. However, Gill is still snorting with laughter as she minces back to them, and greets Julie with a reassuring clap on the back.

"You got out of that one pretty quick, cock! Never seen someone released that sharply in work."

Mentally shaking the annoyance from her head, Julie grimaces and retorts, "Yeah and I never expected you to enjoy being arrested so much!"

Gill sniggers, before pulling a mock strict face, and lecturing, "Of course, his protocol was all wrong. Totally out of order. Would never pass a real duty sergeant, eh Slap?"

The girls all roar heartily, and Julie chuckles. It's a little forced, but the drink is having its desired effect, and her laugh becomes more natural. "Aye, and his uniform would never pass standard either."

Gradually, she regains her good temper about it all. It takes an effort to rein in the temptation to ball out Titch the way she would a junior officer who'd completely fucked it up, but the dual reminders that this is, firstly, Gill's night, and secondly, her friend who acted out of assumption rather than malice, help to keep her tongue in check.

oOo

It is gone half one when they finally stagger back into the hotel. Julie is propping Gill up with one arm and Viv with another; Titch and Sal are similarly paired.

"Where you'se all sleeping?" Julie turns to Jackie and Nancy, who are possibly the most sober of them all, not that it says much about any of them.

"Hmm, twenty-two, and Titch is beside me," replies Jackie with a little thought. "Annnn...I think Sal's the other side."

"And Viv and me're upstairs in forty-nine and fifty," Nancy notes.

"Ohh, okay." Julie thinks, a difficult thing by now. "Well, if you take Viv..." She edges over to Nancy and, fumbling, attempts to slide Viv's arm round Nancy's shoulder. "Then we're all set, right?"

"Right!" Chorus the others, in a variety of slurs. The concierge eyes them wearily.

"Right!" echoes Gill, last of all. "Leshts carry on in my room."

"No... The only party you're going to is a slumber party, Slap." Julie makes sure to be audible enough so that the hotel staff know they're not actually planning a knees up. She's not entirely sure they'd welcome the noise levels by this point. "Come on." She leads the bedraggled crowd of revellers to the lift, and ensures that Jackie, Titch and Sal get out on the correct floor. Next it's their turn. "You know where you're going, yeah?" She nods to Nancy and Viv, who grin blearily back. "Night-night, then."

"Goodnight!" they chorus, and something provokes Nancy to add: "Last goodnight I'll be giving you as a Prescott, Gill!"

"S'not true! I got...got...thirteen nights as a free woman yet!" Gill quips back, loudly.

"Keep your voice down, you knob!" Julie hisses, as the lift doors close. "You'll wake the whole floor."

"Don't care. I'm a free woman, I am. Can do what I want. No ones gonna 'rrest me."

Julie groans. "Come on, shut it, at least till we get you to your bed."

"Y'can get me to bed anytime, Slap."

Julie looks sharply at her friend, as best she can given Gill's arm is draped around her back. She is so not going down this road, not again. Not now, of all times. "Why d'you do this to me, Gill?" she whispers to herself as she fumbles for the key in Gill's clutch. Door successfully opened on the second attempt, they stumble in.

"Cause you're Slap." Gill announces.

"What?" Julie's a little distracted trying to find Gill's nightie.

"Cause you're Slap." She repeats. Julie stops, and looks at her questioningly.

"Yes, I know I'm Slap. And you felt the need to remind me...?"

"'Cause you asked...why I do this...an' I answered. Because you're Slap."

Sighing, Julie turns to face her, and watches Gill wobble on her unsteady feet.

"Come on, you mad bitch, sit on the bed before you fall and break something." She goes to guide her over, and gets caught in a bear hug.

"I love you." The words are muttered, mostly incoherent, but Julie catches Gill's drift.

"Yeah, yeah, come on, onto the bed." She removes the wandering hands from the waistband of her trousers, quite forcibly, and plonks Gill on the bed, before going back to her search for the nightie. "Where'd you leave it?"

"What?" Gill looks up at her petulantly, hair mussed, eyes bleary, top still damp in places. She's shivering a little.

"Your nightie, you daft cow, where'd you put it?"

Gill gesticulates towards the pillow. Julie retrieves the soft fabric and throws it at her. "Get that on you before you catch your death. Actually, no, lemme get you a towel first." She moves through to the en suite, marvelling momentarily in the size of the bathtub. "Here!" she chucks Gill the towel. "Go on, get yourself dry and stick your nightie on."

"Why don't you..."

"No." She tries to keep her tone firm but soft.

"...don't you believe me?"

"About what?"

"When I said..." Gill mumbles a bit through pulling her top off, "...love you. You said 'yeah yeah' like you didn't believe me." She pouts a bit more.

Julie rolls her eyes, leans back against the wall and hunches over a little. "It's not that I don't believe you, chuck... But you're drunk. And getting married."

"Still a free woman fer'nother thirteen nights." God, the look Gill gives Julie underneath her strewn hair nearly makes her weak in the middle.

"Damnit Gill, stop this!" It comes out considerably sharper than she intended, and Gill looks as if she'd just slapped her - and not in a good way. "Stop it," she repeats, pleadingly this time, before kneeling on the floor in front of her friend and placing her hands on Gill's knees. "Please. You're my friend. My best friend. But you're getting married, and we can't do this. It's not right. You're marrying Dave, you shouldn't be chatting up anyone else, even two weeks before the wedding, hey?" She aims for somewhere between cajoling and consoling.

"But you're not anyone else, you're Slap." Gill looks down at her insistently, and before Julie can stop it, drops her lips to Julie's in a fierce, breathlessly passionate snog. Her instinct is to fall into the kiss with a will; there is a temptation to accept this for what it is, to buy into Gill's persuasiveness that their relationship is somehow different. Not to mention the potential for revenge against Dave; the glory she could take in being Gill's dirty little secret. But the words seem hollow even as Julie thinks them, and she discards the idea. That is not who she is, nor who she wants to be. It takes her a full minute to be able to place her hands on Gill's shoulders, and gently but surely push her away.

"No, Gill. We can't do this anymore. I can't do this. You're marrying Dave, and that's...great...but that means you can't come on to me when...when..." she searches for words that are less painful than the obvious, and fails.

"Can't?" Christ, she looks so hurt, like a little child, those big darkening eyes staring at her uncomprehendingly.

"Can't," Julie repeats, firmly.

"But...but...s'not like it's with anyone else. Wouldn't do that. Not that kinda girl. But you're different."

"No, love. Not anymore I'm not." The break in Julie's voice is audible, and Gill has the heart to look repentant.

"Mm sorry, Julie. Didn't mean to upset you..."

"I'm not..." She begins, but knows it's a lie. "Come on, let's get you to bed. If you want, we can talk about this tomorrow, or Sunday, when we're sober. But it's long past your bedtime now, bridezilla." With deft hands, she finishes the work of putting Gill's nightie on and taking her skirt off. If she chokes back a sigh, it's inaudible.

"Will you...will you..."

"What?"

"Will you stay? Not like that... Just, just...hold me?" There's a complete lack of guile in Gill's eyes, and Julie gives in.

"Alright, you daft besom. Gimme a mo." She takes her jacket off and wriggles out of her bra. With her belt removed too, it shouldn't be too awful to sleep in her clothes. Safer, too, than slipping next door for her nightie. She slides underneath the covers. "But just this once, and nothing more."

"Thanks, Slap." Gill grasps her hand, and holds it, outside of the covers, up to her heart. Before Julie has reached up to switch the side light out, she's asleep, snoring slightly. There is no one to see the slowly blinking green eyes in the darkness, eyes that don't close for a long time.

"Love you too, Slap."

oOo

In the early hours of the morning, after only an hour or so of sleep, Julie disengages herself from Gill's loose grasp, and, silently as a cat, steals out of the room and in to her own bed. Some time later, she is woken by the shrill noise of the in-house phone, and, when she manages to lift it to her ear - having tried the wrong way round first - she hears Gill's voice.

"Morning Slap, you up yet?"

"Gnnnrrrr." She clears her voice and tries again. "Urgh. Well. I guess I am."

"How did I get to bed last night?"

"I put you there. Don't you remember?"

"Not really... Thanks cock. I appreciate it. You know there's room service here, right? You can phone down for your breakfast..." Julie stifles the groan that emerges at the thought of food. "Or even just a cuppa. Sound like you need one. Tell you what, I'll order for both of us, and come in to you, how's that?"

"'kay." The phone clicks. Julie reaches for the spare pillow, and, pulling herself up the bed, props it behind her. Blearily, she runs her head through her hands. Well, at least that's over. Five minutes later, the handle of her door turns, and Julie realises she'd been that tired she hadn't even locked it behind her.

"Well?" Gill lands on her bed, looking crisp and fresh in a deep green blouse and tight charcoal skirt.

"Urghhhh."

"You're ridiculous." Julie feels Gill's eyes intently on her, and looks up, just in time to catch her looking away. Gill pauses, and then, swiftly, "You're totally right, by the way. I was out of order. Unacceptable. Won't happen again. I promise."

Julie watches her staring at her feet, hair perfectly combed back over her pointed little ear. The skin on her cheekbones is twitching slightly, as she waits for a response. Slowly, Julie begins to smile. "It's alright, Slap."

The relief that edges over Gill's face, and even her body, is palpable. "We're good?"

"Course we are."

Gill nods, a short, sharp dip of her head; a deep breath. "Well then..." Just as a knock comes to the door. "That'll be the tea. I'll get it, shall I?" And as she goes to the door, Julie considers her friend, shaking her head gently. It'll work itself out. She knows Gill well enough by now to know when to trust her word, given in promise.

oOoOoOo

**1991, Gill's Wedding**

Julie makes her way off the dance floor. The slight fishtail on her full length dress has taken the entire day to get used to, but she thinks she has the swing of it now. The three inch heels help. If she's entirely honest, she quite likes it, as far as dresses go. It's a deep sea green Devoré velvet, simple design and cut on the cross, fitting where it touches. Certainly, Dave's best man, Pete, seems to appreciate it, and Julie has had to make it amply clear to him that just because it's tradition that they dance together does not mean it'll go any further than the obligatory slow shuffle at the beginning of the night. He seems a nice bloke though, and appears to have taken her request on board. She makes her way out to the corridor to find the ladies'.

Instead, she finds Dave.

He's lolling against the wall; tux jacket long discarded, collar undone and tie pulled loose. His cheeks are ruddy with booze, and his eyes slow to focus.

"Ju! My old mate Ju!" He launches himself at her, hands everywhere, ostensibly in a joyous hug. "Hav'n' seen you all day Ju..." This isn't entirely true, she thinks wryly, as they were in the Church together, and in a number of the photos afterwards, and were even sat at the same table for the meal. But it's true, she has quietly avoided him since. Until now. "Ar'n' you happy fer me Ju?" He shakes his head. "Fer us, I mean... Fer us! Ar'n' you happy?" He clasps her by the shoulders and turns wide blue eyes on her, searching her face.

Stifling the urge to run her hand over her brow, Julie forces herself to smile.

"Course I am, Dave. Congratulations, mate. Now..." But he's not letting her go that easily.

"But are you really happy? I mean really, Ju... For Gill as well as me?" There's something hungry in his eyes now, and Julie sighs.

"Of course I am, Dave. Happy. For both of you."

He scrutinises her some more. Finally, grudgingly, he drops one hand, leaving the other still on her right shoulder, grasp wrench-tight.

"Always thought you had a thing for Gill, so I did, eh Ju? I mean, not that it would matter if you did, though..." A wicked gleam comes into his eyes "We could always see how that went, eh?" He winks broadly. "How would you fancy that, Ju? Best of both worlds, eh?" His free hand slides onto her waist. Julie stiffens. There's no one else in the corridor, and the music is loud from the wedding suite. God knows where Gill is. Slowly, calmly, she grasps his wrist and, tighter than she ever manhandled Frankie, removes it from her hip and holds him at bay.

"You are utterly abhorrent, Dave Murray." His lascivious grin turns to a leer, and moves swiftly on to anger. "And if you ever, ever try that again..." She leaves the threat hanging for a moment, before twisting her shoulder free, and turning away in disgust. She has only made it three steps before she feels his hands grabbing at her, turning her round to face him again.

"Don't...don't tell Gill I said that...will you, Ju? It would really hurt her if you did..." She stares at him in total disbelief for a moment, before swiftly pushing him against the wall with the breadth of one arm and twisting his bollocks with her spare hand so sharply he cries out.

"I will never do anything to hurt Gill, Dave Murray. But I swear to the God you just made your vows in front of, if you ever betray her trust, and I find out about it, I will make your life hell, you utterly useless piece of shit. Do you understand?" Dave whimpers. "Do. You. Understand. Me?" she repeats, icily.

Slowly, he nods. "Ye...yes."

She drops her hands and steps back.

"Good." And turns on her heel, striding down the corridor, head held high, until it turns and brings her out of sight. Her pace slows, and her shoulders slump. She walks unseeingly past the ladies', and out to the front door of the hotel. She could do with the air.


	11. Chapter 11

**Present**

Sunshine drifts lazily in through a crack in the curtains, warming a small patch on Julie's forehead. One bare arm is crooked underneath her head, the other loosely cradling Gill's still-snoozing form, cuddled in to her. Her head lies between Julie's upper arm and her chest, nose nuzzling the side of her breast. One hand snuggles in to her rib cage, underneath the covers. A soft grunt from Gill, still dreaming, makes her smile. The soft bed linen encases them in a comforting way, and Julie almost doesn't want to open her eyes to officially wake up from this perfection. She lifts her hand to stroke Gill's hair, and slowly, opens her eyes. If only all mornings could be like this.

She ponders the little head below her: the carefully treated hair all sleep tousled; the soft skin bare of any make up, dark eyelashes gently resting on ivory cheeks; the pointed little nose, the curve of her lips. The way she can feel Gill's heartbeat through her breast, pressed firmly to Julie's midriff. It is slow and rhythmic, like her breathing. The sense of utter calm is almost overwhelming, and hard to take in.

It is, she thinks, the first time she has ever lain with Gill like this. So many times in the past, though they had enjoyed passionate sex, they had slept separately afterwards. On the few occasions when they had slept together for what was left of the night, it was always Gill who was up, and straight out of bed to make the tea and attack the day. This is the first time she has seen Gill sleeping naturally, peacefully. Not fitfully, as she tended to do on odd occasions when they'd shared a twin room at ACPO Conferences; nor alcohol-induced deeply, as after various nights out. This is what Gill looks like with no strain, no stress, no worry. It's a deeply endearing sight, and Julie sighs for the sheer pleasure of it.

The movement seems to stir Gill a little, and Julie completes her wake up call by landing a kiss softly on her forehead.

"Good morning!"

"Mmmmmmm."

"Not like you to be the sleepyhead."

Gill grins, eyes still fast shut, and mumbles, "Late night exercise, what can I say?"

"Maybe we should try for daytime exercise, if this is what it's going to do to you." Julie drops her nose to nuzzle Gill's forehead, provoking her to lift her head up, eyes still closed, for a gentle kiss.

"Both. Both is good."

"You'll have me worn out..."

"Can think of worse things to be worn out by!" Finally, Gill opens her eyes, and gazes up at Julie, consideringly. "D'you know, Slap, that's the first time we've ever...had sex...in bed. I was just thinking about it, and I don't recall us ever..." She leaves the sentence hanging, as Julie kisses the tip of her nose, causing her to wrinkle it up in response.

"You're adorable. No, I mean it," she insists, as Gill casts her eyes down. "Adorable, and beautiful and, and... Christ, you're right!" As the thought catches her up. "I was thinking there was that time when we stayed over at, oh, what was he called... Jim? Was it him? Yeah, it was, at Jim's... but..."

"...that was on the floor on sofa cushions, yeah."

"And most other times it was pretty much..."

"...as soon as I could get your clothes off in private!"

"I seem to remember I was just as impatient!" Julie grins with the thought. "Well, that just gives us all the more reason to explore what can be done with a bed, eh?" Gill smirks, and pulls herself upright. She plumps her shoulders back on the pillow, and glances round the room with contentment. Julie turns round in the bed, and props her head with her arm, so she can gaze up at Gill, an unasked query in her eyes.

"What?" Gill prompts.

"That look on your face... It's a long time since I've seen you look so satisfied with something that wasn't work-related."

Gill tilts her head to one side, focuses on Julie and responds, "Somehow, this room looks better with you in it. That's all. I mean, I haven't painted it in years. Haven't seen the need, given I come in, go to bed, get up and leave. But the other week I was thinking how much these four walls bore me...and I just realised, they don't now."

"Soppy bitch!"

Gill laughs, a physical, jerky reaction which nearly dislodges Julie's position. "Enough of that. Wanna brew?"

"Yeah alright, if you're offering."

"It'll mean me getting out of bed..."

"Don't be long, eh?"

"Heaven forbid you move yourself, y'fat-arsed bitch?"

"Oi! I'm still a respectable working woman, unlike some people I could mention. This is my one day to lie in this week, so you can piss right off!" But her grin belies her words. "Anyway, come back and I'll make it worth your while..." Her eyes twinkle up at Gill's and find a matching light.

"You're on." With one fluid movement, Gill is out of the bed and upright, hand running through tangled hair. She grabs a crimson dressing gown from a hook and disappears through the door. Julie can hear her descent downstairs, and the quiet hum of the radio underneath the clinks of mugs and the crackle of the kettle. Reflexively, she sits up, and rummages down the side of the bed for her phone. The sight of strewn clothing makes her grin.

Last night, after Gill had reduced her to a panting, keening, shaking hot body, they had lain quietly, wordlessly staring into each other's eyes. Finally, Gill had wriggled round and said, "Well, in lieu of the traditional smoke, I could enjoy a bit more of that wine now, could you?" And Julie had twitched her head in humour and assent, before getting up and making for the bedroom door, which had apparently scandalised Gill. "Oi, aren't you going to get dressed?" she'd asked.

"Who's going to see me, other than you?"

"Still, but..."

"Relax Gill, my things're in my bag, at the foot of the stairs...and if Sammy has let himself in and managed to miss the sound of his mother having loud lady sex, well..."

Gill had giggled and blushed like a schoolgirl, but shooed Julie on with a wave of her hand, before catching her up in her own nightwear, to slide cool fingers down her back.

"You're not inducing me to get dressed, woman."

"How about you take all that upstairs, and I'll get the wine?" Gill had suggested as she slipped round Julie's body, hands taking full advantage.

Smirking, she'd done as instructed, taking great pleasure in being sprawled on the bed in her lace-panelled nightie by the time Gill arrived back up. The forceful sucking in of breath as she'd come through the door had told Julie how successful her choice was.

She smirks at the memory. Downstairs, the kettle is boiling, and Gill sounds like she's arguing with the news presenter. Finally, her hand touches the metal casing of her phone, and she pulls herself back onto the bed.

No messages. No missed calls. That's a plus.

Then, the morning routine: a quick glance at emails - nothing that can't wait. Good. News websites. More rioting in the US... God, it feels like Moss Side all over again. A suicide bomb in Iraq. She shakes her head. It never seems to improve. Local news, then. A crash on the M56, nothing fatal, thankfully. Oh, and...she clicks a link, an old memory triggered. Well, fancy that for timing. And there's no reason not to, as far as she can see.

Julie is still absent mindedly planning, with a soft smile on her face, when Gill comes back in with a tray: tea and croissants with butter and all the accoutrements. Julie hurriedly closes the app and puts her phone down.

"What's that grin for?"

"Nothing..."

"Eh, don't think you can lie to me, lady! I've only been retired two days." Julie winks, and makes to grab her mug of tea, but is stopped by a firm hand. "No you don't, Slap. Come on, out with it..." She's teasing now, but her grip is as strong as ever.

Julie rolls her eyes. "I was just thinking I might take you out tonight... If you'd like?"

"What, for a meal? My cooking lost it's appeal already?"

"No, you daft cow! And I was thinking after dinner, actually."

"Oh, so you're presuming you're staying the night, then?"

"Well, given your forward planning..."

"Where d'you want to go, anyway?"

"Tell you when we get there." Julie looks up with a wicked grin. "Go on, can't you live with the suspense for a few hours?" She watches Gill's face as the challenge works on her, until she feels a loosening of the hand over her own. Raising the mug to her lips, she settles back against the pillow, feeling smug. "Thank you."

oOo

"Oi, Slap, d'you have a thermos?"

"Yeah...in the cupboard under the sink. Where're we going?" She has dropped the question numerous times throughout the day, in the hopes that Julie would be careless enough to answer. But Gill has been disappointed - or rather, Julie has been ready for her.

"Wait and see," she says with her most provocative smile, and flicks the kettle on. "But you should probably bring a thick coat, and if I could borrow a scarf, that'd be great." Gill gives her a bemused look, but shakes her head and goes to the hall; coming back with not only her own jacket, but one of Sammy's, too.

"Reckon this'll fit you, Slap, if you don't mind looking any more of a knob than usual? Our Sammy begged for one of these when he was fifteen. Something about Ali G and it was what all the lads were wearing. 'Course, he never bloody stepped out of the house in it once he got it, daft twat."

Julie eyes the Parka with a mix of amusement and horror.

"And you bought it for him? Doesn't sound like you."

"Did I heck, as like! Nah, that was Dave playing dickhead, trying to score one over on me. Didn't work. Will it do, or are we going somewhere posh?"

Shaking her head, Julie refuses to be drawn.

"It'll do, ta chuck."

It is ten o'clock before they leave the house, and Gill is near climbing the walls with curiosity.

"Y'know, we're really going to have to teach you some patience, woman," Julie remarks, as she holds the door of her SUV open.

Gill, pauses in putting a leg into the footwell, grins. "I thought that's what you were doing all day... Or did I miss the finer points of your 'education'?"

Julie laughs, a deep, raucous sound echoing in her throat. "Oh, that was just an introduction love. We've a long way to go yet." She hands Gill the picnic basket, and studies her face with care. How better than to make sure Gill didn't see the same news article she had, than by keeping her hands, and other bits of her, thoroughly engaged for the day?

Getting in the drivers seat, Julie wriggles herself comfy and starts the car. She turns out on to the A672 and she can feel Gill's eyes on her.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm just trying to figure out what you're up to."

She smirks.

Out into the darkness of the Peak District they drive, bantering, then under the fleeting lights of cars on the M62, and a few hundred yards later, Julie pulls on to a cement track leading off the road. Still, Gill is too busy staring at her, with deep curiosity, to realise what's in front of her.

"If this were anyone else, Slap, I'd be getting worried right about now." There's a jokey tone to what Gill says, but Julie can hear the slight concern growing, as well.

Shaking her head, she slows the car to a snail's pace, reaches a hand over to Gill's chin and gently turns her head so she's facing forwards; North.

"Ohhhhhhhhh!" By the light of the greenish-blue tint of the dancing sky, Julie can, for the moment she turns her face to Gill's, see the glimmering excitement in her eyes. "Ohh, Julie!"

They drive on in silence; a rich, deep absence of sound other than the car engine, so thick Julie senses she can feel Gill's pleasure. With care, she navigates the track, until they pull up outside the sailing club on the shores of the reservoir. It's deserted now, and she's glad that no one else has thought to come here, of all places, tonight. She cuts the engine, and, pausing to smile at Gill's enthralment, quietly opens the door. The coats were a good idea; it's chilly enough up here, under the stars and the crystal quality of the northern lights. They flicker, treading their path across the sky. The sound of her feet crunching on the gravel as she walks round to open Gill's door seems somehow louder than normal.

"Come on." Without even meaning to, she is whispering. Gill gets out carefully and digs a beanie hat out of a pocket. Then, she slips her hand into Julie's, and they walk down to the reservoir wall. Above them, the sky shimmers; lights hover and disappear, returning in shades of jade and poppy red. Below, the slight wind ripples the water, sending the reflection fluttering away from them. Gill shivers; with cold or with excitement, Julie can't tell, though she imagines it's a bit of both. "Come're", she pulls her in front, and into her, wrapping Sammy's capacious coat around them both, her hands holding it fast to Gill's tiny frame. Still, silence. In the distance, an owl hoots: once, twice, then it too is quiet.

After a while, Gill wriggles against her, causing Julie to side step round, till they're turned to each other, faces strangely toned in the luminescent hues. Gill looks up at her, eyes searching, unblinking, until Julie tilts her head, leaning in. As slow as the lights moving across the sky, Gill lifts her lips to Julie's, touching in to the most tender kiss. Finally, she speaks.

"Thank you."

Julie pulls Gill tight against her, relishing the heat between them. She feels strangely elated; a mixture of joy, excitement and, to some extent, as if an unasked question has been answered. Or, a little voice inside her says, _complete_.


End file.
